Saturday, March 19, 2016

Bad Poetry, Stephanie Anderson

Are Those Space Pants? 
By Stephanie Anderson 

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in 
this little suitcase, you know the kind with
wheels and an extendable handle) so it’s always with me 
(a muscular vessel
dripping with blood 
like how my love overflows 
for you, 
my love)

She walks in beauty
with hair down to there and an ass that don’t care.  
This is real Kayne shit up in here, because DAMN
woman 
You. Are. Fine.
Keep walking. 
I’ll just keep staring.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
Ok. So that’s a lot. 
Which means I love you a lot. 
Like
A lot a lot.

I do not love you as salt-rose or topaz
because who the hell has ever heard of “salt-rose?”
Is it a flower? A condiment? 
Both of which I’d give to you.
And when your eyes close I will watch you
all night long and count your breaths and JUST WATCH YOU.

I love you with my every breath
So don’t ever leave me because I’ll
literally
suffocate.

He loves me, he loves me not.
Well.


Fuck him, amiright?

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