Well, this is a poem about the relationship between Haruka and Naota from FLCL...I've kind of changed Haruka's appearance...so yeah…enjoy!
By the way, I put in the lines as a paragraph break, I couldn't figure out how to have spaces in between them...ah well.
When she comes
she'll be on a shiny yellow motorcycle
red scarf whipping around
wrapped around a porcelain neck
but oh man, this girl's no doll
ratty jeans and a bad dye job
pink and blonde spiky hair,
a faded white tee and red jumper
no style or grace really, but there's
that attitude
rip-roaring no bullshit
she could kick your ass to high heaven, boy
her weapon of choice: a guitar bat
slicing, crashing, frenzy and chaos
of vengeance, her eyes a red gleam
slits like a cat's in a pitch black night
she's sly and plays games,
pounces on you and sinks her claws in, never lets go
until you want her, then she runs and hides.
She's got that wild grin
that madness when she tears apart
that smoky, dirty, crowded, dead-end,
smog-filled, well-worn city
we call home.
She rides on her shiny bike
through a playground
past a bakery
under a bridge
by the side of the black river
in between wide-eyed, startled people
over the hills
squeezed in shadowy alleys
in broad daylight, bold as anything
weaving in and out of traffic
your little tinkling bell sounds……shit.
you've landed on top of me again.
So I told you I loved you.
We kissed once, a long time ago.
You said I was too young,
and ruffled my hair.
But someday you'll come back,
teach me baseball,
run over me with your bike,
flirt with my dad,
banish evil with your guitar,
and your coarse beautiful insane
mysterious annoying funny kind self
will offer me a sour drink and go,
"You like the sour ones now, doncha?"