Shirty Poetry

Find someone who inspires you to write shirty love poetry. I mean, really forking shirty, because love poems are only understood by the ones involved. Nobody else gives two flying forks. Or, one even. So find someone who inspires the shirty love poet in you, and who pretends to like your forking shirty poems. Except that would make them a liar.

Find someone who makes you want to write truly shirty love poems, and who actually likes them. Not just because you wrote them, or because you made the effort, but who thinks they are wonderful, and who wants everyone to love them, too. But that would mean they have no discernable taste, or judgment.

Find someone who puts you into uncontrollable fits of spewing shirty love poems onto paper. Or a computer. Or, of course, a phone. Any type of medium for capturing words. Written words, not spoken words. Write them for a person who knows they are forking shirty poems and has the confidence, in themselves and in the relationship, to say so. You need to hear it, no matter how it hurts. Love poems forking sock in general, and that’s if the writer knows what the fork they are doing. Yours sock even more, like drawers full, and they don’t mind one bit telling you. Wait….

Find someone who infects you with the emotional equivalent of Turret's Syndrome, and you feel helpless in the face of restraint. You must write your feelings into verse format, and you do. You write your stoooopid forking poetry. You show no one. Ever. Then a few months after breaking up, you delete the forking shirt out of all those stupid files.

That’s love, baby.