DeckerJae
Professional sadgirl. I write poetry in my sweatpants, buy candles online, and eat pineapple pizza.
Whose words these are I surely know.
His poem is on the website, though;
He may not see me reading here
To feel his verbalight aglow.
My fingers, locking, pull me near
To stop and think as words appear
Between the loading page's wake.
No gentle write as uploads clear.
My fingers, scrolling, raise the stake
And I just simply cannot break.
The wand of pen, a zen filled sprite
Of verbalight for poesy's sake.
This site, this Prose, engulfs my sight,
But I have deadlines I must fight,
And words to go, so I must write,
And words to go, so I must write.