i almost told you this wasn’t poetry
in my defense, it isn’t pretty
the gory bits of humanity never are.
but people in and of themselves are poems
so here’s myself for you;
call it poetry if it makes you feel better

loving you was the sound of a piano
and now when I tickle the ivories all I see is
you, laughing on the bench next to me
let’s sing together again someday,
okay,
?

i still love you,
but the misery in it is behind me.
it’s no longer tainted with your presence and
your kiss and your voice.
loving you is somehow easier
knowing you’ll never pay me back in kind.

i need you to play for me again.
take out your ukulele;
let’s cheers to hickies, sunshine and nirvana
maybe pretend we could
love each other again someday

i told you this wasn’t pretty but i guess
you could call it a poem because this is myself on paper
i told you i’d try to see the world in poetry but i guess
here I am making good on that.
visit me sometime, okay?
i’ll be tuning the piano.