i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it

With parted lips she soundly rests

As soft sound breaths flow steadily

I rest my ear upon her breast

Rejoice in her heart's melody