Discounted Poetry

I'll stand beneath your window, Totally oblivious inside the freezing rain, And sing my love in careful stanzas, Poetry unworthy your bewitching Hypnotizing eyes, Your private language of enchantment Clear but cryptic, Seldom understood And never completely. Do you really want to ride away with me? - 9/18/26

I liked it on the other side, The slyest smiles, Slightly smudged remarks, The bold abiding touches, Nudges pressing skin to skin. Now I twist and spin myself acrobatically To steal attention. I've become automatically embarrassing, A braggart bore who's unaware Too much is far too much. - 9/17/26

You bend all light Into your eyes A gravity that flaunts all other mass. I dig my heels And feel my body sliding Despite my fight. Your touch is teasing, Taunting, Thermal jet erupting rarely, Unpredictably. Your laugh Is liquid, Wickedly surrounding me And drowning me completely. Suck me under, In. - 9/15/26

You're not hungry But you think you'll take a bite. You sneak a bite, Another,  Then it steals a bite of you. Toxic chocolate. It always tastes Less great than you remember, But you really won't stop. You will never learn. - 9/14/26

I strain against the pressure Of your eyes upon my face. I crumple underneath the weight Of your eyes now shifted far away. So many secrets Waiting for your tasty ear, So many reasons I should simply hold my silence. Tell me more about the weather. Will it really rain? Your cheeks are slightly reddish purple. Do you truly want to know me? We can pace about this circle Now, today, forever. We can stop and dare And let this float adrift, free. - 9/11/26

I don't think I'm ugly. My exes say I'm handsome. I even spend some hours sweating at the gym. Nobody notices. The ladies care nothing for wit or creativity. Even smarter ones are dating athletes. Pretty women are no longer reading poetry. I don't think I'm hungry. I pay my own mortgage. I even make some decent money now and then. Nobody notices. The ladies care nothing for frugal 401ks saved. Even smarter ones are dating brokers. Pretty women are no longer reading poetry. I'd carve a sonnet to your beauty Or compare you to shooting luminous stars, You would never see or read. You only listen to nonfiction memoirs. No one's reading poetry. - 9/10/26