The last poem I have from my Freshman year poetry class, all of which I found in a folder in my closet recently. Enjoy this. I'm a pretty shitty poet.
Home In Thought
How different we are that you would read a great poem and say it's almost like a
painting. And I will look at a painting and call it poetic.
I came to your house last night
Even though you weren't expecting me
Even though I shouldn't have gone
And explained something to you that you didn't understand.
But I love you anyway.
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