Broken things stay.
I love personifying things that matter in our lives. I’ve done it with Heaven and Hell, with Time, and now this. Poetry and love has to be two of the most important things on that list. So yeah, here’s my attempt that making Poetry and Love just like you and me. Comment below and give me prompts! Enjoy!
Poetry was a twenty year old,
5’7”, super shy but very flirty.
His escape from reality was through metaphors and similes.
“They are the shoulders I choose to cry on,”
he said all the time.
He loved red flowers, beaches, cliches,
and some of the weird things too,
like having Pizza on mountains.
He’d had many crushes
But had never been in love,
so when Love walked into his ninth grade classroom
with a happy smile and messy hair,
he was hooked.
Love would tell him stories of her childhood all the time.
She’d felt very low the first time she was high,
her first letter was addressed to a city,
and her last letter to a lost pet,
her favorite season was autumn
because broken things were Love’s favorite.
every word she said was like standing
at the edge of the world – a cliffhanger –
where he would shout her name
and she would echo back stories.
Love left one day.
She had to move to another country
and Poetry couldn’t stop her.
“My heart is cut in a thousand pieces
like tree branches cut through blue skies,”
“She was my red flower,”
“I need a therapist,
someone who would listen to me.”
When Love left,
Poetry decided he wouldn’t be like her.
He’s been there for everyone ever since.