I love poetry

There’s something about poetry

i like poetry

it reads well, sounds nice,

damn, those fire one-liners and metaphors

There’s something about poetry

Can you tell me what it is?

a reflection of the author

a reflection of the alter

like a perception

Is that something about poetry?

i like poetry

it reads well, sounds nice

What if it doesn’t?

i like poetry

There’s something about poetry

Can you tell me what it is?

a flurry of language

Restrictive

a reflection of the author

Refractive

it reads well, sounds nice,

Relative

i like poetry

There’s something about liking

Can you tell me what it is?

i hate poetry

it reads poorly and sounds bad

There’s something about liking

Can you tell me what it is?

i hate poetry

it’s destructive

There’s something about liking

and hating, you know?

There’s something about hating?

i hate poetry

There’s something about hating

Can you tell me what it is?

i like poetry

Can you tell me what it is?

it’s something

Can you tell me what it is?

it is something, you know?

and it is you, it is me,

it is here and there,

once upon the stairs and below wherever above

compounded where something knows

all the woes and no, reduced and systematic

something restrictive, refractive, relative, and

yet it continues to go elsewhere and nowhere

it is poetry and

I love poetry.

Comment: I’ve told myself on numerous occasions, various moments- there’s something I like, something I hate. There’s something, you know? It’s been about a week since I began reading Yuri manga. Quite a sight I’ve rarely acknowledged, yet welcomed. It has a common theme of course: love. What is it? There’s something about love. I absolutely love it. And I will continue to declare it in ways similar and different as the strings extend.