roses are red,

violets are blue,

this makes the 64th poem

i have written about you.


my thighs were pink

but my chest felt fine;

is the first poem i’ve written

about you that rhymes?


now my heart feels blue

and my mind feels numb;

was the fever between us

really just dumb?


my neck is purple

and my head feels black;

when you touched me like that

did it leave you crawling back?


our drinks were golden

and our minds were bright;

you can’t tell me that part of this

didn’t feel right.


now you’re sitting across from me

and your skin looks red.

i can see it in your eyes,

we’re better off

just in our heads.