I guess I’ll never know
what makes the three letters
of your name seem so special
that they make my heart
skip numerous beats
whenever I see them
all around me—
carved on trees,
posted on walls,
I’d act as if it was a call-
that somewhere, somehow,
you miss my aching soul.

And I’d carefully write you down,
spilling ink on any paper—
as if you were a prayer
I’ll never learn to speak.

All you are
is what makes me
want you more,
all you are
is radical.