I tried writing poems
About people that weren't you

I tried writing about the boy with the sweet smile
That texts me everyday

I tried writing about the lady with the dark blonde hair
and tired eyes that I met on the subway last night

I tried writing about me, about the monsters in my bed
That haunt my dreams at night,

I tried to write about anything else but you,
But you flow through my pen like blood through pulsing veins,

And it's hard to close the wounds when the sutures are as sturdy
as duct tape on a plane engine.