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Whisper the words not meant for their ears
I appreciate the proximity, dear
Accidental rhymes serenade me
Iím always the one doing the singing
And you the ignoring
Wonít you be my pianist, boy?
Harmonies too sweet, too prophetic
Bitten tears and black and white visions
Little boys and their favorite pretty girls
Eyeliner and messy hair never hurt a soul
Absence does make other hearts grow fonder
Iím still alone
These mysteries fuel my late night songwriting
Silly, silly, silly girl I am
Could you be my silly, silly, silly boy?
Take an ear for my flirting, please
And go along with my scripted plan
A particular and genuine kind of charades
Could it be that out thoughts intersect?
And in some twisted reverse psychology
ĎTwould be the same for you
Thatís the medieval talk
The Shakespearean romances Iíve been reading
Thatís the music playing
The bad romance a lady called GaGa told me
Thatís the twelve a.m. clock
Glaring at me with buttery eyes
It wants you too
Million line stanza, take me to sleep
Mend my torn eyelashes
My poems can be singular thoughts
Singular ideas, singular dreams
Singular me
Joyce Zhang
Published in Issue 34