Constraint: Rearrange the words to make a prose poem using only two lines at a time.
Pretty is Empty of You
Angels in angles: there in your sound are vague hands and eyes. Touch of rain meet complicated balance. I’ve the perfect theories, run of what’s out front. You – suffering was right. I know pretty is empty of you, but filling. Days are red with you who I don’t know. My wine and me. Up to you, my want. When I fall, I see just heart. Apart.
Thought I wasn’t what I’m on. A standing bridge is mine. Oh, I was away a lot, had my thinking time. To say this sick town needed its time, I now think of us, colder. Calls own conversations and when I meet always on the sky my will glows. I laid you inside my broken song with the heart that’s in bed. She’s all soul of angel.
There’s me, forgive mine, dear. Please Queen, please Beauty. Only eighteen of mind. Of where I am you don’t come. From here, you and I on me.
Wrathful and younger, a cold killer was I. When I’m starry she screams. Night, I believe starry, stained ceiling. I don’t own my grey role with a day on earth. The time was a market, not that I remembered Mamma, just gonna take your mind. The socks on the floor is at time.