I wanted to be like your cigarettes
I wanted to be what calmed you down
I wanted to be what you couldn’t wait to press your lips against
I wanted to be the little thing you looked forward to during the day
I wanted to be the one thing you could not live without
And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to become addictive
I just wanted you to need me the way you needed to light up every night

                              But then one day you quit smoking..

My shadow is beautiful,
She dances and twirls,
Does piewriates down the halls,
I walk with her talk with her,
She mocks me,
Cause she knows I'll never do what she can,
The way she bends,
Almost breaks,
Stands back up,
The tips of her toes pointed straight,
Ballerina, Ballerinia,
Overweight,
You can't protisapate,
Ballerinia, Ballernia,
Stay home,

The moon shines a cool blue tonight
as we entwine our fingers, laying on the baseball field
beneath diamond heavens. We lie
in silence, in the moments when the Universe reveals
itself, and contemplate the distances between one celestial body to
another, the space between
us growing as I turn south
to find Orion while you seek Cassiopeia in the north.

Shooting stars cross the sky, and we wish separately on dead
stars and dead dreams, lights already grown red and extinguished
as we whisper in the dark, passing
between phases.

And in the end we're all left searching.

So the only thing you lay claim to
is you are a poet.

He was referring to my CV
where it was mentioned boldly
the art I dabble in.

But that’s no skill
shrugged the questioner
doesn’t hone your ability
in finance management
or marketing strategy

can’t fetch one good deal
for the company
your poetry

but to be frank with you
I too wrote a few
only to dump before it got me
your poetry

otherwise I fear
I would not have been here.

Outside were faces in nervous wait.

I wondered if among them
was another poet!