Metaphors and Imagery
I have whispered my love for you into words.
Tangle of disjointed metaphors and imagery.
For if it cannot subsist on what is,
then let it seek refuge in what could be.
Like seed that will not germinate.
Falls not from tender fingers into fertile soil,
but skipped as pebble across placid waters.
Or surface noise on well-loved record—
soul pressed into vinyl, heart worn on sleeve—
born of inherent flaw or inflicted damage.
Deliberately missing lines from middling novel,
sentences deemed not plot-pertinent.
Like breakfast on a day that began at noon.
Or insistent rain at 3AM on a weeknight,
drops colliding, cascading; soothing, lulling.
Lost to subconscious once its work is done.
I have arranged my ache for you into poetry,
miscellany of metaphors and imagery.
Since it cannot subsist on what is,
let it seek refuge in what could never be.