I am trying to be a poet
but I felt like your poem.
Am I an artist or
am I the remnants of your paint
splattered on my favorite jeans?
Or the beautiful words you gave me
including "I'm sorry"?
I am trying to be a poet
but the words get spit back in the bottle
and stick with strangers who I have told too much to.
Am I a writer
Or am I just gagging on the words you threw at me
when you smashed the plates
and slammed the door?
I am trying to be a poet.
But I am tired.
Isn't
That
Poetry?