If Memories Were Butterflies
Friday, April 17, 2015
When the Art is Better Than the Artist
You are like a sour taste in my mouth,
Making my tongue prickle and burn.
Something I loathe to endure in idea,
But oddly accept and return to in taste.
And I can't say why I laugh with the sour,
Like you are the enjoying of comedy of menace.
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