The Great Internal Negation

(n.d.)

I try very hard to not be a romantic person.

Too easily,

I find myself caught up

in slow dances and strings of lights and much too optimistic ideas.

I yearn to skip through the stars,

swing from the trees,

catch snowflakes on my tongue.

But stars are just burning balls of gas,

I am not strong enough to swing,

and direct precipitate is just… unsanitary.

So I will avoid the cracks on the sidewalks,

and avoid touching the handrails when going downstairs.

I enclose myself in concrete structures,

and try not to wonder of beautiful things;

I force myself to believe

that love and lovely things won’t come.

But then again, I am a poet.

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