This is for the romantic, the mawkish, the banal, the ideal, the lyrical, the melodic. You peek through the keyhole, enamored of the art of sin and lust and pure pleasure. Poetry is the product of a nihilist’s mind, birthed from the womb of an agnostic in beauty and is the same enemy of Roman annihilation, a treacherous literature inappropriate for the innocent.
 
The timelessness of Dorian Gray’s charm is not on par with Basil Hallward’s passion; and so...

We all wish we had a childhood as carefree as Totto-chan’s. In the midst of what adults would call misery, doe-eyed Totto-chan runs, runs, moving her small feet quickly and hums a happy tune in her head, all the while her long hair flies in the wind.
 
Totto-chan: The Little Girl at the Windowis a memoir written by one of Japan’s most famous actress and TV personality in her time, Tetsuko Kuroyanagi. The book tells the tale of...

I, as a poet
            can weave individual letters
can mend broken words
            can juggle pretty phrases
can bake delicious sentences
 
            I, as a poet
can write poetry,
            prose,
but not the color of your eyes.
            but not the twitch of your lips,
not the flow of your hair,
            not you.
 
You have yet made me
            a failure as a writer
I want to put my pen down
            in shame,
in...

Blue tables and red chairs
 
grey beaches and pink swamps
 
I mistake colors for numbers,

again and again and again
 
your mouth full of whitewashed lies
 
and I fall,

fall, fall, fall
 
again and again and again.

The tune of Summertime Sadness
            resonates down to my cochlea
                        like a dangerous polygon
                                    like the stranger in my words
                                                like a childhood crush
                                                            like you
                                                                        like me
                                                                                    like us
 
The tune of Wicked Game
            cracks a chunk of my heart
                        severing its strings mercilessly
                                    and your eyes are a pool of beige
                                                locking with mine,
                                                            crack.
                                                                        I don’t
                                                                                    want to
                                                                                                fall in
                                                                                                            love.

We all wish we had a childhood as carefree as Totto-chan’s. In the midst of what adults would call misery, doe-eyed Totto-chan runs, runs, moving her small feet quickly and hums a happy tune in her head, all the while her long hair flies in the wind.
 
Totto-chan: The Little Girl at the Windowis a memoir written by one of Japan’s most famous actress and TV personality in her time, Tetsuko Kuroyanagi. The book tells the tale of...

i.                    She had flowers in her hair. They were small and daisy-like, but she wouldn’t tell me their names. One of them was tucked in between her ear, except it was still in its bud form. When I asked her why she didn’t just wear a blooming flower, she told me, in a small, gentle voice, “I want to be her sunshine, so that when she flourishes, I will be part of her, and she will be part of me.” ...