S’more Amore

S’More Amore by MahButtItches

There’s something about you
I cannot quite explain
Eyes’ depths oceanic
Drowning, again,
Fear not, Mi Amore
I can paint all this pain
I beg you to share it
For your burdens’ no strain
If this is crazy
Well, I’ve been well trained

Our music, love’s madness
Old and new songs refrain
There’s something about you
Undoing my chains: un-restrained

There’s something within you
I want so untamed
There’s a longing, a passion
Fanning these flames
If all love contains madness

Fair enough: I’m literally fucking insane

Yet perhaps, there’s a method to madness – Quite like smiles hidden by sadness…

I’ll take it all
Metaphors paint pleasures and pains (again)
Just don’t stop, love
We have it all to gain

They say to be immortal
Break a poet’s heart
Yet I can’t stop writing
Whenever we part
This longing within me
Merely our start
You be my muse
We’ll become art.

What happens if your being is mending her soul?
What happens when broken
Finally feels whole?
What words can I use
When love is nothing but…

What is within that can make me come

so unhinged?

Can an allegory allegedly assert profound proses? Can you lay me down abed these roses?

What poetry can sing if not made with strained strings —

Long broken hearts?
Can she paint purely empassioned enjoying this pen?
Is there dirty jokes hidden? Or plainly seen as part?
Not tucked away again in darkness,
but as an alight, anewed art?

Can poetry flow from a once black hole soul? Can her rhythm and rhyme be once again made whole?

There’s a longing
A passion
Fanning these flames
Our Genius, our loving
Entwines, entertains
If this love is madness
Colors blacked-out the insane

Don’t stop my love
Let these new beginnings end
So we can just get started
beginning again.

Te Amo mi S’more, eh?
But not like dessert…
Abbreviated alliterations form as I assert
All the everything’s I’ve desired…
The moon hitting eyes,
big pizza pies
That song rhymes with all that I pine

(That’s, huh huh, what she said – a Freudian slip? Or autocorrecting conflation time and again? A pen, a pen – is just what’s up – with her s’mores, mi Amore, it gets really…hard…for her speak…once again.)

Music that inspired

What happens when a girl who obsessively studied one man’s fucking crazy form of poetry fucks around and finds out? When she dreamed of being able to do what he does? What happens if she has studied and been inspired by so many artists and poets, and she finally feels like dancing and writing again…? So maybe she starts making her own shit? Again?