Sunday, November 20, 2016

I want madness and poetry

How easily you asked me

How easily
You asked me
If we could still be friends
After we broke up,
How easily.

That is when I knew
I was never your passion.
Passion finds it hard to
Descend into friendship.

You might read this and say,
What is wrong with friendship?
It is the purest kind of love.

I say I don’t want this kind of love,
I want another kind,
One where I can express myself
With other words
And sometimes, without them too.

I want madness and poetry,
Hunger and sin,
I want to be haunted
By you always,
Want my brain
To be the unsuspecting soil
To your freely
Invading roots.

Is this kind of friendship
Acceptable to you?
No. I figured.
Because how easily, how easily
You asked if we could stay friends.

Philip John

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