---
You are the gift
in a ribbon of my favorite color.
You are the cure
to the ninetieth of my madness,
but believe me,
it's awesome being this mad.
You are the reason
why being real in this fantasy is perfect.
You are the caution
of mine in picking sad songs,
reminding me not to let
fate change our beautiful prophecy.
You are my gorgeous poem
I couldn't write enough of.
You are my prose of goodness,
making me know how to write
something imperfect
with perfect flaws.
You are--oh, yes--the gift
in a ribbon, and you're my favorite color.
---
YOU ARE READING
Finite Infinitives
Poetry𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙄𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 ╰ a c o m p i l a t i o n o f p o e m s ╰ c o m p l e t e d "I haven't done everything I want, but in the realm of reams, I already did some."
