Someone (you) once told me
Writing poetry is simply describing something
In a way no one else has.
So…
You are a gazebo.
A feline grooming ritual—
Delicate, powerful, adorable, and condescending.
You are a spark
Igniting
And/or reducing to ashes.
You are a finger to the lips.
Spun steel sugar—
Intricate, cold, delicious, and non-existent.
You are a question
Accusing
And/or decidedly hypothetical.
So…
Are you poetry yet?
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