someone asked me who i was
with a smile, i said:
as of february i am
not a man, not a son
not a brother nor a human

i am a collection of memories
that you had given me, stories
of you laughing on that summer
night and the tears you cried
when your best friend left—
i am an anthology of poetry
you never read, not because
you didn’t like it but because
you were the rhythm in the core

someone asked me who i was
and i told them that
i wanted to be yours