To the poet
Who writes for her -
Your words deceive me
Then destroy me with an endless longing.
I wish I was her,
For she inspires you
The way I only wish I could.
You write to love her
I write because I'm selfish.
Because it's the only way for my self-preservation,
Because if I don't hold a pen
I would hold a blade.
You write to impress her
I write to express my helplessness.
Your poems liberate you,
Mine suffocate me even more-
Pushing me deeper into the longing...
Forcing me to question -
How the heck have I been enduring
All this within me, without you?