If only a poem will do and
I have no pen with which to
write then give me a needle
that I may use my blood as ink.

If only a poem will do and
I have no paper on which to
write then give me your body;
that I might trace crude letters
across the drawn, copper skin
of your thigh and the form words
everlasting even as the fading
pink recedes from your skin.

I only a poem will do and
I have no words any good to
Offer then give me your eyes
That I may see the world anew
Seeing neither sun nor water
Nor tree nor flame but only
The thin veiled truth of your
Perception, your alien manner
Of being that the world may
Be to me new again, fresh,
Ready for ridicule or praise
Or any manner of discourse
That, finding us lacking, fills
The void of the myriad mysteries
We cannot ever see like fireflies
In the daytime, their light obfuscated
But there, elusive as the truth
And equally beautiful nonetheless

If only a poem will do then:

Creativity:
sentimentalization
justifiable

If only a poem will do then
(See above)