In prose,I let you die

In prose,I let you  die
I kill you for I die.
I take you to the cliff
and show you the greens
of dreamy dreams
Pinks of the walls
adorned with our pictures from the cafe.
Black and browns of the
most intense teas and coffees
Yellows of the library
we trusted upon.
And from that cliff
I push you down.
In prose,I kill.
In poetry,you exist.

In prose,I unnerve you.
I pinch to survive.
See through the murals
and the written art.
See through the plays
and the sitcoms.
See through my idea
of you and sunrise.
See through me.
In prose,I veil down.
In poetry,you is me.

In prose,you pour down.
I feel it as you evaporate
into my being.
As I watch you hold your steam
and bestow it upon the cold springs
of unknown romance,
I know you rise into
your abode of positivity.
For in prose,you choose.
In poetry,I divide.