I memorized you like,
I do my roof.

There's tidbits hanging off it,
Flies and spiders living because,
I see no reason to destroy them.
There's lingering dints where I threw,
Books-wallets-jewelry boxes,
In fits of rage but,
You're still my roof,
Above my head and,
I wait until the day,
You cave in on me.

I stuck glow-in-the-dark stars stickers on you so,
I can see you in the dark but,
Some parts just won't light up.

(You're heart won't light for me).

.

.

"There are mistakes in you," I say,
Memorizing my roof, like, I do you.
"Sometimes I want to take a red pen and scribble them out with,
Corrections."

"Like how I spell Socrates without the 'r'?"
You smile back.

"No, no, no, like when our teachers tell us,
To spell everything fully, even in speech.
No matter what they say,
You're lookin' fabulous, babe, even without your 'g',
But, God knows, you're bad for me."

You laugh.
"Maybe I'm just better this way and,
The dictionary is wrong."

"I like your way better because,
Phlegm, really?
What were they thinking?"

.

.

I'd say that you're the elephant in the room but,
You wouldn't get it.

You're sitting there, quietly but,
You're all I see.
God knows, I can't talk about you, though,
Even though you're all I see,
The only thing I think.
I want to say,
"God damn it, you're so beautiful," but,
I'll only be giving myself away.

Rule number one:
You don't talk about the elephant in the room.

.

.

"I'll be your phallic metaphor anytime, sweetie," and,
We laugh.

.

.

My mother told me that,
Extended metaphors won't get me anywhere.

Now I'm stuck at the intersection,
With no available turn off but,
A dead, dead, dead end and,
A back alley of loneliness.
Remembering the three billion entry points to,
Love Cove I could've taken
(Many, many, might have just lead to
you) and,
God damn it.

She's right.

I'm stuck in a metaphoric romance traffic jam,
Somewhere off the Love Highway and,
It's my own damn fault.

.

Should've screwed these pretty,
Metaphors and just said,
"You're my roof, my exit-point of choice off,
Single Freeway, my most beloved,
Spelling mistake in this life story and my,
Elephant.

I love you."

.

(I groan into cereal that,
It sucks to be a poet.)

I love you's get lost in translation.

.


NOTES:

1) I don't like metaphors. Things get lost in translation. Also, I never very good at them, obviously.
2) For someone not in love, I certainly write a lot of love poetry.