perhaps I treat my beloved poems unfairly
I leave them outside in the cold
put them to bed frozen
I shut them out
when they wish to speak
and pressure them to
when they sleep
I've become selfish
and torture
poetry
I use to dance around them
keeping us warm
my bitter heart
doesn't mind
I can hear
countless poems
cursing my name
shouting in vain
drowning
in a bathtub
mixed
with lost words
and myriad mistakes