You are the only woman who could fill
One of my notebooks
In a run-on-sentence from cover to cover
And still demand several sequels to ever be complete
It’s like when you know a movie is your favorite
Because it doesn’t get boring after a million viewings and
Knowing every line is the best part
You bring an ironic smile to my face every time
I think of hand cramps or dead pens or insomnia pangs
Worth the stiff muscles, you hardly waste the paper
And I would rather describe the face of morning I have loved
Than propose likeness with any concept I could dream
In endless possibilities and with resources unlimited
I would never find your equal, so why bother

Nothing beats the moment when you discover that someone you love
Doesn’t love you back
Felt by anyone who has ever been angry with the sky
Or any man that gets attached to hired ***
Any snot-nose whose parent or puppy never looks back
Any loser who can’t unglue his gaze from a return to sender stamp
Reading an old poem can be like
Calling up an ancient girlfriend
I can’t
Believe
I wrote you
No more affection; at least the feeling is mutual
I tend to throw myself fully into things, making commitments
Passion, they call it
I feel more like a drunken hockey player bruising himself against the boards
Any love I harbor dries in silhouette of unread poetry
My words will one day hollow
As my body spirit follows
But sometimes
Ink sinks
And paper lives longer than bones
I remember everything anyone ever said to me