For the sake of poetry

“I’m not confused. I’m just well mixed. ”
— Robert Frost

I merged my cell into yours
then flayed it
to write a music
from the sound it made

“cynic”,_you didn’t say

I  stuccoed myself to the public asphalt
the community trampled me
I made gorgeous lines under its steps
so they can never read it
(it was more powerful to make lines on your skin)

dressed my environment with similar uniform:
grey and simple.

my uniform was similar too,
but there were colors
simmering inside of me,
the ones
you boiled

looked for excuses for our divorce
couldn’t find anything else
but
“For the sake of poetry”.
and you labeled me as
“a victim of public needs”:
I didn’t mind.

Prepared your runway
made some test flights
and after inspection
allowed your flight
“who gave you the right?” you said

And now
you make lines
better than me.

Your heart, which was bigger than your head
and your wisdom disproportionate too,
you spreaded to the public, as if:
Here I am, the colorful one,
And I’ll eat you all.

That the community ate me,
was not the reality:
I did it to myself:
as if each of us built our own world,
and then made a boiler from it,
and then attacked our self-made worlds with our spoons
to mix it.
And you added some spices to my boiler-world,
to make it good-smelling
(the world, which is between our ears)

mixed
mixed spoons:

I licked my gorgeous lines from the community’s steps
(it was more powerful to make lines on your skin)

“Asshole”,_ you said
I didn’t mind.

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