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Peanut Butter and Jelly
My lady writes her lover love poetry,
in between two slices of plain white bread,
and carves out every word with a silver knife,
then longingly outlines them in peanut butter.
Love, a question, she wonders.
I ponder at the flavor,
so salty.
Salty peanut butter,
salty tears.
She’s missing something sweet.
My lady is incomplete.
Love, a question,
I write it in between two slices of plain white bread.
Carving out every word with my sliver knife,
I outline,
my love longingly with something sweet.
With no idea my poetry is incomplete.
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