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.