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Madison Beer.
When the death of log
hangs over a cliff talk
heart-free, I'll walk.
She's six out of six
all visits out of business
Sunday cancelling
all her trips to garden Eden
she brought me gifts
took lightly my nakedness
six of seven office pins
a sandglass by her desk
history was a silver lining
and then we both fell
fell through greasy
in our bites at sweetness
so when it was morning
first day in measurement
I didn't take a peep
I'd finished my assignments.
Borrowing more time
to keep her dial green
yellow still my greeting
a cab driver in her traffic
motion denuded feelings
so we met at the red light.
Diapers felt my easement
as the cologne flourished
detaching of emolument
saw her wipe me clean
so the foul she beared
left me grace of clarity.
I got her images at sixteen
took the floor with her a king
she rolled closer in friendship
up my arm, a warm heartstring
so our forever is missing of teen.
I'm grateful to have made it this far. I remember Madison Beer's first comment about me being totally unflattering; it feels good to have beaten addiction to fulfill God's plan for me as a writer. And it's so great that he blessed me with a beautiful coincidence: my recording and release of the first song for Madison Beer coinciding with her birthday. That made us friends—or at least made her see me differently.
A big thank you to everyone whose deal with me is to keep climbing these poetic mountains, to come up with even better rhymes—my parents, my family, the Hiltons, my team, and my buddies. Thank you foremost to Taylor Swift; she's the shining star I need to set my eyes on to reach the summit. A big, warm hug to my readers. Doubting myself isn't happening because I do not only write poetry for you, but you share your memories with me in pictures and media that invite me into your lives. Thank you so much for letting me tell you my stories.
