I refuse to love in clichés!
I’ve learned my manners!
I will fall to my knees to caress you with verses…
I will bind your ankles with fetters of letters,
And wait for your lips to yell out for mercy.
Until the mercury breaks through the thermometer,
I will turn you inside out
like an original metaphor,
Press your stress points in iambic pentameter,
Marking each syllable like an energized editor.
Virgin bed sheets will wrinkle like failed poems,
Candle wax will drip slowly onto the mantelpiece,
And if I write nothing else after this moment,
Then, I hope you remember me, dear,
by this masterpiece.