Fuck Fiction


I need to love you,

before I write about you.


can be stale. Forgive me but,

I can’t help but stare.

Narrators don’t speak like you.

Each sentence pulses

profanity. “Fuck this, that.”

You want to be judged.

Words can’t mold the way you walk,

talk, gaze at them, me.

You try to get me angry.

Keep your hands joke-filled, ready

to poke at my spine

just to see if it bends, breaks.

I think it will be

better if I created

my own character.

Maybe I’ll steal your blue eyes.

I have never heard

you laugh nor seen you smile.

The more I fall for

fiction, the more you stare back

at me, wanting our

eyes to lock again (Fuck it).


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