I'm toppled by the
sight of you: your
hair, your hands, your
legs; sweeping bends
of muscle-bone-certainty
which always point
to aim and sway
away from me.
Onward, onward.
I lie quiet,
I lie low,
I lie toppled-
No one knows.
Onward, onward.
AN: I'm not sure if you can call this poetry, but that's where I'm putting it. I love Janitor/Elliot and was always disappointed that they didn't keep with it in the show. This poem could really go with any unrequited ship.
I'm not sure if I like the last bit, but I didn't feel the first part ended well. Is the second part too simplistic? Any advice/suggestions would be greatly appreciated!
I hope you enjoyed it.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, Scrubs or the characters therein as they are owned by Bill Lawrence, ABC Studios and their affiliates. This is a non-profit fan made poem.
