i’ve used three poems worth of words trying to describe you
to capture you
cos that’s what i do
try to capture things...
feelings, emotions, memories
chasing little things on the wind

and actually i think it is a good thing that i can’t write you down
because the things that i capture -
they’re pretty. but they’re pinned down
and there’s something ironic about a butterfly in a glass case

you’ve used up three poems worth of words in me
and i’ve tried writing about literally everything else but
all trains of thought go back to back and wind their way to you
like roads to Rome

i like the ache of knowing for sure that i’ll lose you
and that we will only cross paths for a short while
whether they’re pavements or cobbled streets or the side of the motorway
they only touch. and then move away

you’ve drawn three poems worth of words from me
and i have ten more waiting in the wings like 13 year old ballet dancers
stepping on each other’s toes
whispering in each other’s ears
all contrived and all unique
like you and i

So I’ve wrote another poem to describe you
But it’s impossible to describe the way you feel
Is this what love is like? Trying endlessly to write on sand before the waves arrive
Before the sea comes, you leave and the beach is smooth again.