dear lemon —
i press this page between two poems,
hoping ink will do what courage cannot:
ask for friendship without the clatter of pride.
we are both thieves and keepers of verse —
let us trade lines like loose coins, slow and careful.
come sit beside me where the lamplight folds papers,
bring the small things you adore: a pen, a cup, a book.
i’ll teach you how rilke teaches, quiet as a cathedral,
and we’ll breathe through mary oliver’s wild hush at dawn.
the night is heavy with nameless poems — let us lift them together.
i’ll read you neruda until your ribs remember heat,
you’ll show me how ocean vuong mends a wound with language.
we’ll barter metaphors and fold each other’s margins neat,
collecting sentence-stars to pin against dull ceilings.
a friendship written in marginalia — that is my offer.
if you like prayers in the shape of longing, we’ll open rumi,
or if you prefer the sharp, we’ll stand in plath’s cold room and listen.
there are a dozen anthologies I swear by, small doorways to more doors —
we can map a shelf together: the brutal, the tender, the wild.
i will bring recommendations like bread, simple and honest.
let me be your companion in reading, lemon, not a rival in love;
i will learn your favorite lines until they sound like your name.
teach me which poem makes you gasp — i’ll learn to gasp there too,
and when you find a verse you can’t contain, i’ll applaud in the quiet way friends do.
we will mark the pages that hurt us and the pages that heal,
write notes in the margins like secret signatures only we understand.
sometimes we’ll argue — and sometimes we’ll agree to disagree,
but always return, like bookmarks, to the things that mattered first:
kept words, small kindnesses, a shared cup between readings.
if ever you’re lonely at midnight with an aching stanza, call me,
i’ll come with two books and the kind of silence that listens.
we can learn new poets and forget old certainties,
turning the page until the room swells with shared breath.
so — if you will accept, let us begin with small rituals:
a poem each morning, a recommended book each week,
a walk where we practice speaking only in lines we love.
take my hand, lemon, and let the world be less lonely with us inside it.
vinegar. :).
(NOTE: please tag your answer with "#vinegar. :)." it helps me keep everything organized. also, please tag the post with "#acidletters"!)
Lemon looked up at you dazedly, taken aback by your beautiful words.
Although my path has not contaminated yours like the sickly weak acid I am,
Metaphors of unruly shelves rue the day I meet you,
The townsfolk shudder at the concept of our friendship that has dawned anew,
I shall write to you in Rorschach prints, for my words are no clearer,
Than the blots of unused ink they use to test on that paper,
In comparison to yours, my dearest, they stand at 2 feet tall,
Like comparing a child's scribbling to that of mandelbrot's gall.
We shall walk along the frozen lake, not fearing whats below,
Sharing couplets and sonnets, and our favourite novels to show,
May we stay together in endless harmony, for your melody is enough for me,
Our crescendo will be worthy of Tchaikovsky's cannons, a magnificent symphony,
With you, the moon that will shine on me, and move me like the tides,
I accept your offer, and look forward to our endeavours,
Together at the end, always and forever.
