This is a scenario being played out in my head before I decide to answer a very simple question. Since, my daughter always says that I over think things. She may have a point.
Is it intended for love or admiration
You withstand daily torture, for the pleasure of others.
Or are you enjoying the constant bombardment of the different and deafening perfumes coming from the spoils of others.
There are many secrets wrapped in your bosom of untapped tapestry.
Is this where love comes to die?
Is your name more literal than we, mere mortals, admit it to be.
Could it be so simple a notion, that love is chosen.
Or are we domed to repeat the past of failed love?
Therefore, i respond to your question, “Do you want to sit down? ”
The only seat available is the love couch.
“No, thank you. I’ll stand. “
Author: Celeste 2015
Concrete Poem version of this poem can be found here
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