POETRY

I Fell in Love With a Metaphor

Ironically

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I fell in love with a reader.
You fell in love with a writer.
It wasn’t my best juxtaposition.
But it wasn’t my worst.

I would write. You would read.
I began flirting with foreshadowing.

Imagery bloomed colorfully
between us to start.
A palette of effusive
watercolor flooding my heart.

Back then, I’d bang an onomatopoeia
that’d clang in your ear
until the tactics of cacophony
became quite clear.

I’d write:
“Consonance sits and slips
b’twixt kissing lips.”

You’d read:
“Assonance hits and trips
amidst hissing quips.”

That same repetition, rhythm, and rhyme
repeated and repeated, tautologically, time after time.

(Alright, that was a little liberal with the alliteration, allegedly.)