The Misuse of Rhyme.

I want to sleep
but I'd rather make you weep
and read my messy rhyme
because I want to kill time
painlessly, while I am at it
lest Karma hit
me back with it's best shot
while you stand there smoking pot
laughing at my misery
offering me a cup of tea
and tipping over the pot of milk,
staining my expensive silk.
But that is what you always do
so it wouldn't hurt if I were to
put you through this painful ordeal
and make a sumptuous meal
of the woes inflicted upon you by my verse,
and take advantage as you won't curse
Because you secretly grinned
while I hopelessly stringed
dissimilar words together
while grumbling about the weather
and questioning the legitimacy
of meaning in incoherency.

If only,

you could see

that I am cold again.

If only,

you could see

me dancing in the rain.

And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I'd know that you'd feel me somehow.
You're the closest to heaven that I've ever been

And I don't want to go home right now.

When dewdrops on leaves
light up like fireflies beneath our feet,
and shooting stars sparkle in the sky
when we meet.

another possible love poem, maybe?

you crack me up the way
the december wind outside my
bedroom window does.

and then i bleed.

no, i am not hurting.
i am savouring every moment of
what is going to be the last time
that you will be mine.

i am writing it all down
in my head, somewhere,
only to write
and scribble on plain white
papers and
make rhymes
to compliment
the melody that you have put in my life.