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For My Sweet

Is what I titled the last poem I wrote you.
Which makes this seem like cheating
(I hope you don't mind)

But it rings so true to the message I bring--
Because yes, this really is for my Sweet
My Sweet Sophia.

My Sweet Sophia who sweeps me away
With supple lips speaking solemn truths
Or (and this is more likely) simply spewing shenanigans.

(See what I did there? Alliteration, bitches.
That makes it artsy and stuff.)

But it is that spew that I thrive off of!
The Spew of Life which makes me whole:
Talk of foot necklaces, incest, and p***s Faiths.

And so I reach the reason for writing
This God-awful poem:
Well, I'm not entirely sure.

I told myself it wouldn't be mushy
But I think I've already messed that up.

I told myself it wouldn't be too long
Yet the explanation alone just keeps going.

So what we have here
Is a God-awful, mushy, too-long poem
Written in a nice font.

Let me wrap this up in a few more lines:
My God, I am going to miss seeing you daily.
I wish we could grow up and become pretentious together.
You really are my first true love.
s**t, you're beautiful.
Oh crap, I'm crying.
And this isn't even poetry anymore.

In an attempt to save any aesthetic value,
I leave you with a couplet:

I'll never be that far away
Remember, love: Lesbians, hooray!