• it never is bland
• it never was nothing
• it never has lollopped
• it never will bet
• it always is beautiful
• it always was natural
• it always has loved
• it always will be

I want us to exist, like the lines of exultant verse, but this poem has defective vocabulary. It is overflowing with rhyme, and it is lacking in pulse. The tune is crooked. What's more, the spirit is wrinkled. Hope has been replaced and misplaced with apprehension. We plummet, like empty candy wrappers from fingers of children who will experience the kind of love that we can't ever recognize.

• my mornings are wasted sleeping in snoozes.
• time is spent and cashed in for dreams brimming with anticipation, but
• your savings account is running low on love.
• you could ask me for a loan, but
• I don't think you want this money, honey.