Miscommunication

The poets I know of write poetry like:
7 ways to eat a mans heart raw;
the cannibalistic metaphor for love you didn’t know you needed.
Whilst someone on the other side is singing soft in tones of pastel like:
Baby, I am sunflower seeds and I will grow my own garden,
I will water myself and the next time someone wants to kiss me I wont flinch.

So when you say:
“Man, internet these days are full of hipster photos of coffee and bad poetry.”
Like you’ve ever cried at 4 am cradling some tea that promised you it would be soothing, but wasn’t,
and holy fuck was that an apt metaphor for that entire period of my life.
Reading love poetry like baking recipes;
Add time, always add tentatively touching after laughing, let chest rise and if heart is still too hard in the morning,
try less black coffee and more sunshine.
I want to say clearly there has been some miscommunication here,
you see you thought I wasn’t one of
those poets and I thought you weren’t an asshole.
Easy mistake I reckon, let’s not do this again.
Instead I say:
I like coffee and poetry.
And then I pretend I don’t feel at least a bit cannibalistic when you smile at me like I’m something endearing.

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