In this ridiculous
can two people be each other's muses?
despite sketchy moves, drawn to each other
mixing like a drink at a pretentious southern bar
written as a thought-provoking short story
with a sudden ending.
Is there a way for the person I write about
to be out there, thinking of me?
Making his own version of poetry?
I need a teacher
to tell me that I'm great
at this writing thing
who will give me constructive criticism
and gold stars or something
Or I at least need a teacher
to tell me that I'm terrible
and should revise
and demand more of myself
and hit the delete button
and do something else with my life
But now that I'm the teacher--
...how do I get better?
Why is it that other people's impressions
mean more than any reflections
We need to talk
He said as I sipped wine in a bath tub
all while being watched by my cat
after a good work day
Feet don't hurt
We really don't.
You're all that I think about when I listen to my favorite artists
That's why I'm always searching for new music
To keep you out of my head
And maybe give someone else a chance to be in it
T-shirts with no bras.
Doing what I want.
Saying what I think.
Breaking up with him.
Belief in self.