He is all
blooming sunflowers and rainbows
I'm all
darkness and reckless storm.

He is all
perfect moves and graceful steps
I am the
clumsiness tripping over myself.

He is all poetic verses and
how the sunshine tastes
I am the blot of ink scattered
all over the page

He is the name of the ache
my beating heart feels
I am the name of his forgetfulness
that is only confined to me

He Is the gentle summer rain, every creature appreciates
I am the extremity they warned you about in your books

He is the destination,
the only thing I have ever wanted
I am the blindfold, an illusion
Distracting him from his happy ending

He is the spotlight
of every party
I'm the 3am loneliness
the poets battle against

He exists a little bit
in all my poems and unfinished drafts*
I am the past he has long
buried
which no one knows a thing about