h(e/r)

Short poem about grammar and unrequited love.

She c***s her right eyebrow and forms a question mark.

Her dimples are quotation marks; all her words are timeless.

My comma excites into an exclamation point.

My arms reach out like two parentheses to enfold her; she is my only source material worth referencing.

 

Apart we're two fragments, but together we form one line of brilliance, written by a master.

She is the subject and I am the predicate.

She is the noun, I exist only to describe and define her.

 

Why can't she see that we belong together?

Why can't you and I ever spell us?

 

Author's Note

Not exactly a poem I guess, but I wasn't sure what else to call it. The woman it's about is prettier than the piece. I am not good at pretty.

Reviews

[S]

I like the concept, I like the presentation... and I also though it was rather pretty =P, seriously.
Mr. Bailey, "Did you just grab my a*s?"

I think I know who "her" is, Roseanne Barr?

[deer-heart]

I like the concept, I like the presentation... and I thought it was rather pretty =P

I think your main problem, if you can call it a problem, is that you're just trying to stuff too many words/syllables into each line. Think about whether there are any unnecessary words in there: can you cut down on some verbiage? What about words with too many syllables? Look up some synonyms. Just a couple of ideas to make it a little less wordy and easier to read.

But overall, I *really* like it.