You say I am a poet.
I tell you I am nothing.
You say I craft words.
I tell you I build nothing.
You look confused.
Imagine how I feel
that with a mere smile
the raise of an eyebrow
you push the words
right onto me.
That's right!
Don't you see now?
I am your paper.
You are 10,000 words
waiting to be written,
100 feelings
waiting to be had.
I lay myself bare to you,
an empty page,
just awaiting the
spill of your ink....