I've written three poems in this same box
In the last five minutes.
All on the topic of your words
And your mind
And mine, in comparison.
One mimicked your style
Another, dissected your phrase.
The other, not even worth mentioning.
My words never came out right
Especially since I was comparing them to yours.
I don't know you. You are an imaginary human
On the other end of a fictional wire.
But I stumbled upon your poems
And was blinded by the flame.
My hands press the keys reluctantly
Knowing that it is fruitless
My brain has been destroyed
And I can no longer understand any sensations to transcribe.
Your skill frightens me
In that it shows me who else is out there
And how I measure up
And, as usual, I am a foot short.
I hope you never stop
Because if you continue leaking like you do
Maybe one day I can soak up a bit of your radioactive words
And gain some super powers of my own.