I wrote you a poem,
But I dropped it amongst the stars.
It wound up on the ceiling
While we were chasing cars.

I wrote you a poem,
But it dissolved into the ocean.
A fisherman caught it
While his net was in motion.

I wrote you a poem,
But it's on the other side of the world,
In another man's hands,
His fingers distorted and curled.

I wrote you a poem,
But you haven't read it yet.
Someday you will,
For now it hides in your silhouette.