Prosepoetry.

Sago
(In raw form)


Poetry:

The most beautiful thing anout you
My beautiful Mr. Outlaw
Is your touch.

Rather, the lack of it.


How someone I expect
To slyly glide his skin
On exposed patches of mine
Doesnt.

How the rest of the world
Play saints and heroes
And you, Mr. Outlaw
Can't even bring yourself to touch me.

My Mr. Outlaw
Your my Mr. Outlaw
And I'm the frail little princess queen
With the fragile heart and brittle bones


You are the foreseeable future
To my a-haunting past
Event travelling slowly
In a timeline a tad too fast


You curl up the little wild child me
And put me in your pocket
Safe, unharmed, clanginging with your coins and bullets

And I fall asleep with a crisp blanket of you
All over my untouched skin.



Prose:


The most beautifuk thing about you, my beautiful Mr. Outlaw, is your touch. Rather, the lack of it. How someone I expect to slyly glide his skin on exposed patches of mine doesnt. How the rest of the world plays saints and heroes, and you, Mr. Outlaw, can't even bring youself to touch me.

My Mr.Outlaw, you're my Mr. Outlaw and I'm your frail little princess queen, with the fragile heart and brittle bones.

You are the foreseaablefuture to my a-haunting past. Events travel slowly in a timeline a tad too fast.


You curl up the little wild child me and put me in your pocket, safe, unharmed, clanging with your coins and bullets. And I fall asleep with a crisp white blanket of you all over my untouched skin.



Prose Wins.