Free verse № 119262
A love apple's just a tomato (edit of "Uprooting")
I have planted your name
in phonebooks, in address lists,
in neat little rows
in places where it will be easy to uproot
(where you can't make love flower,
where no apple grows)
where it won't flower with every look it gets.
I am still drunk on your scent.
I repeat what I know:
(that love blossoms when you tend it)
lust is only fruit,
and love's just potatoes.
21 comments
"I hate you, you bastard, stabbed me in the heart, I'm stronger, don't need you, you'll regret dumping or cheating on me, blarg, blarg, etc, etc."
I almost gave up the hope that somebody would put some thought into an "uprooting" poem.
Blessed with eight.
where you cannot make love flower
or get me drunk on your heady scent.
And lose the lust..love's.. lines.
The fruit/potatoes stays but I'm going to move it to the beginning of the poem. Deal?
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