So I wrote this poem today and I was curious as to what you guys thought. I don't really write poetry (I write songs, but that's quite different), but this one sort of flowed from my fingers.
This is not love, I know that much;
For it does seem to manifest
An innate need for human touch
And self-perception not it’s best.
I saw thee amble up the stair,
Direct attraction I did feel -
Thy golden legs and golder hair
The center of thy pure appeal.
But seeing thee disparate is
From knowing thee, or touching thee;
This self-imposed forbiddingness
Will take its toll, increasingly.
This is not love, for love is kind
And cozy in its soft repose;
These notions filling up my mind
Reflect not love, but all my woes.
