The Art of being Warped…

I’m writing some sort of poem right now. I have less than two hours to achieve my self-made Nanowrimo goal – a poem a day. I have 11 more to do ūüė¶ In the middle of doing that…even though I don’t believe it, you did say, after reading one of my poems a week or so ago, that you thought I was morbid. And then you ran off to Copenhagen before I could come back with a perfect response. Anyone, following my blog, will know that this bothered me that you thought ‘I was morbid in ways you could not define’ so much so that I wrote a poem about it and have often been mentioning and denying your opinion to others, in my blog, and to myself in some dark and dank and morbid areas of my mind :P. I thought about it again today. If you were here now, and not gallivanting around Copenhagen, I’d say this to that:

I believe poets are serious
and warped.
seriously warped. (Ellespeth said this)

That could be my poem today but…it hardly touches on other feeling levels. ¬†Ya never know. That might mean something one day. Now onto the poem. OMG! Less than 2 hours. So…I may be late today. I’ll have to sue myself.

I hope the coffee is strong¬†enough for you in Denmark. ¬†I’ve spoiled you for 13 years with Cajun coffee one can stand a spoon up in.

I miss you, sweetness.  Hahaha.  I do! ♥  Smoochies.

Ellespeth

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