I put pen to paper, aiming
to create
nothing
in specific

but

every time
my pen traces the contours
of your

blue eyes, full lips,
the soft, invisible fuzz of a barely-there beard,
strong arms that don't protect me
from the stabbing knife
of your non-words.
Indifference I can't escape

because

it's too convincing for me to believe.

If only I could write something that wasn't about
                             You.