answer my dm, linda

I

yor beuty iz not a poem, but
u cleverly mus have nown alwayz
tht the wake u cause, iz.

so this poem iz
not 4 u but 4 my
giref at wut gallery
babeu could have bin, if
only dms unrequited
counted twards some
snap in time tht felt like
love — truth blazin — (420)

II

i should
nt right

poemz about
u; u do not
deserve the
attn of poetz.

u shine when u drink —
of sexxx n tan vel
vet — u

rumble w ancient energy, u
are deliberate w instagram, u
clame, & i bleev.

we 8 za (pizza) &
made fun of our frendz
til the erth turned &
u walked home nects 2 me
like moonwalkin mercury orbiting;

& 1 nite yor pours leaked
fire,molten glazz, (!)
my left thigh waz singed wen u
touched itbabe!!1! but

III

poetz rite abt
babes in paintings &
also bout paintings n
general, e.g.
w sunsets n waterlilyz. im sorry

that babes like u rnt painted
anymor but by themselvez
n by mirrors, tht yor not
~high art~ 4 wearing c.g.i.
dog ears :/

IV

nmostly i feel
the issue here iz

tht my love for u
waz never “art”

(wich continues 2b
nt my but yor fault).

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