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a heartfelt musical blot
suspended note-like
a drop of ink, an errant
falling black jewel
from the nib of a pen.
Love poetry from nuns.
Deceptive hands, a mouth that leads,
heartfelt, naturally, to
blushing shame whispers in the dark
and skin touching skin
so sensitive that it not-quite-hurts.
Love poetry from monks.
Is this what love poetry is?
Setting our sexual escapades to task
like gaudy, brilliant rhinestones
on black velvet
like some tacky local newsreel.
the ugliest sort of poetry
is love poetry. Especially
Love poetry from priests.
- Title: The Apology
- Artist: Okimiyage
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Description:
My Poetry class, sophomore year of college.
Do you want to judge me
or do you want to judge my art?
Of course you don't, so don't
Just meet me at the end of time. - Date: 05/21/2011
- Tags: apology
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