Starting poems is hard.
Starting anything is hard, really.
I wish starting things
were as easy as nature makes it seem.
I wish it was a as easy
as the sun makes it seem
in the morning.
Also like the sun,
I wish I was the one
who gets to kiss your skin
and keep you warm.
I wish I was the bottle
that touched your lips
way too early.
I would have tasted better.
And I wish I was the gun,
and when you pulled the trigger,
I would have kissed your temple.
Ending poems is hard, too.