The lyricist

Dedicated to wishful thinking

A pillow and blankets
Made of my favorite poems
Placed them in between the words she spoke as she
recited them to me so I
rested between lines.

Mimicked the movement of her lips
Memorized her greatness, in my sleep
Every story she told me was
Killing me softly
With a smile
And a dream
So I listened, couldn’t help but to

Always admiring her from the front row
Two seats over
She lived in the corner of my eyes
Cause I was too afraid to look directly at her
I didn’t blink cause I
Thought she’d vanished as quickly as she appeared.
So I gave her my full attention from my peripheral vision

She’ll never know…

She captivate sights scents sounds
Gracefully trending my thoughts and emotions
once tuck away behind a plaster wall of half assed practice smiles
That can never dawn in front of her





Lips curl as she fed me knowledge and truthfully
I haven’t had a meal this good
Lyrical orgasms from the tone she spoke in seduced me and
Had me elated grooving to her tempo and
truthfully
I haven’t had sex this good

Almost as if she kissed the pages of her poetry and my neck
And the words entangled flesh which wanted to be
stuck to her lips unwilling to part
I see that’s why
poetry choose THIS vessel
And I wanted to be them instead of envious to syllables
On college rule notebook paper and laptops.

So I wrapped my mind within pillows and blankets
Made of my favorite poems
Placed them in between the words she spoke as she
recited them to me and I
rested between lines.