I wrote you a poem today.
It was my fourth about you.
Will i ever stop?
probably not.
I can't kept you alive,
unless it's in my poems.
I fear i might forget the color of your stormy ocean eyes.
Or maybe the way you smiled after you sang to me.
Or maybe the way you smoked your cigarette.
Lord help me if i forgot that way your arm felt displayed along the curve of my body.
Or the way your sweet soft voice whispered my name in the speaker of your phone.
But especially if i forgot the way you made me feel,
like i was flying, alive, whole...
That's why i write poems about you.
And no i don't think i could stop.
It's almost as addicting as you.
Almost.