Poetry

You expose all memory
You make the most of boundary
You're the ghost of royalty imposing love
You are the queen and king combining everything
Intertwining like a ring around the finger of a girl
I'm just a singer, you're the world
All I can bring you
Is the language of a lover
Bella luna, my beautiful beautiful moon
How you swoon me like no other
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I've been thinking about women and poetry and romance. Some women just exude poetry. You see them and things start to rhyme.

How do you become one of those women? No one will ever think of me as poetry; no one will ever write a song about me.

I am not that gorgeous, I don't have a graceful or romantic air, and I don't move with the wind, dance with the breeze. I'm not very poetic. I'm not even prose. I'm the blurb on the back of a novel. I'm a movie summary. I'm the brown paper around a Starbucks cup.

Why can't I be graceful, smooth, beautiful, mysterious, and demure?