there ought to be more love poems
for the ones who hold their pens tighter
than they’ve ever held anybody else.

ink that spells out love stories greater
than they ever were when we lived them,
memories crafted between meetings
that made them larger than life.

there ought to be more love poems
for the ones who make playlists
that spell it all out,
titles that fit together like jigsaw puzzles,
rhythm ‘n blues and i love yous.

line after line about a beauty
too great to bear,
the one they reached for,
clutched in their hands
until it slipped and shattered
and left us with the shards.

there ought to be more love poems
for the ones with hand-written letters
in tea-stained notebooks,
fingers tipped in glitter,
and paper flowers that smell like jasmine.

there ought to be
more love poems for me.