Your worst days
Are why I can't break up with you
And why I have to.

I'm not feeling
excellent
lately.

'Q

I opened this page as he said,
"Write what you know,"
And I heard a girl whisper,
"You know I heard once
That writers don't write what
They know; they write what they
Wished they did,"
Guilty I lifted my pen
To keep from tracing that first word:
You.

"I write poetry about people all the time," I say.
("I write about you. Over. And over," I don't.)

'Q