Monday, May 04, 2009

He's just not you

He's so gorgeous
His lines outrageous
He makes the first move
But he's just not you

He's naughty, like a child
He's crazy and wild
It's great, he's funny too
But he's just not you

He flirts with me all the time
But he doesn't make me rhyme
He's fresh, he's new
But he's just not you

HE can't write beautiful songs
He can't make me belong
In your arms like you do
No one could ever be you.

1 comment:

bioblade said...

OO nice, who is he? :O

Poetry

when language like bubbling streams flow




when words are laid down to fit like lovers' hands




when you feel the essence of the poet from within




when swirling thoughts are caught in the net of rhythm



when images reel as you read




when pen and paper create a symphony




then, it is poetry