I used to keep my poems a secret.
I guess I still kinda do.
But I keep them to share with you.

Because, you
listen.
There isn't a word I can't say.
There isn't a sentence I can't string together
even if it sounds like nails on a chalkboard
you listen.

There's a way you look at me.
When I speak these words,
I swear
you look straight into my soul.
Like you know what I'm about to say, and you understand.

There's a way you touch me.
When I practice in the mirror, shouting out the same line over and over and over
trying to make it sound like I didn't write it when I was drunk.
You touch me with your fingertips and spell out the words as I speak them, as if
you don't want me to forget what comes next.

There's a way you hold me.
Like you're holding a dictionary whose binding has come loose.
As if when you let me go, I will breakdown into a million words.
A puddle of mismatched letters on the floor.

Because that's all I seem to be.
A ticking time bomb of words.
And sometimes, they don't come out just right.
I say the wrong thing with the right intentions.
I say black but I'm thinking white.

Your patience, is more than a virtue.

Cause there's a way I look at you.
When you paint, I look at you as if you already are the painting.

When I touch you, I touch you as if I will smudge you.
Smudge the perfectly placed shadowing that God seemed to shape with his fingers.

When I hold you.
I hold you like you are the Mona Lisa, and I am the Louvre.

Because that's what you seem to be.
One of the worlds wonders.
Worth more than anyone could ever put a price on.

And as you paint my words into your pictures, I will write your paintings into my poems.