Being a poet
is both a pain and a privilege.

All you do is
bleed your emotions
on a thousand pages
while people sing your praises
for ages.

i know that you "like" me
and maybe one day i can really like you too
but right now
even if i did
i wouldn't know
because i can't tell my emotions apart anymore
and you, as a person, deserve more than
my broken aching self
i'm sorry

I do this
you do that
not illegal
we are both glad

you do that
I do this
we bother no one
nothing is amiss

you are rich
I am poor
I care not
I don't implore

you are poor
I am rich
come share my meal
your shirt I'll stitch

you and I
we both live
harm we cause not
there's nothing to forgive

I and you
it will come--that final day
there'll be no more you and I
as each quietly walks away