All the experiences
from life's coffers
I'm willing to take

To commit into text
with deliberate romanticism

My brand of unspoken poetry
with sense
only I can make

To rebut
my mind's
skeptic cynicism

If I still had your number,
I'd text you.
I'm not really drunk enough for it though,
but I don't know.
I'd like to tell you a few things.
Maybe that I'm sorry.
Or maybe I'd just send you a quote from Robert Tew.

This one:
"Sometimes you have to love people from a distance and give them the space and time to get their minds right before you let them back into your life."

But I don't, so I won't.
Just so you know,
I'm not okay with how often you find your way inside my head,
so I'll just write another soon-to-be-deleted poem instead.

As long as I live till the day I die
When joyed or in grief, truth or lie
As long you and I are dead close
Standing right at our familiar doors
As long as the rain still abandons the sky
And we meet and talk exposing me to your sigh
As long as the Ocean trusts water from the streams
And you flow through all streams in my dreams
As long as there's a day in every year when I see a million stars
When my hurt summons a tear blurring me from my scars
As long as the dawn and the dawn chorus beautify every morning
My affection will never die so I'm never mourning

They warned me about you.
I read the nutrition facts
and saw the ingredients.
The FDA didn't fail to inform me,
you were no good for me.
Toxic, even.
I knew this all but you...
always smelt better than you looked
or tasted,
Like a lemon poppyseed,
with salt for sugar-
strange and savory,
but I should stop eating.

Ocean muffin
maybe made for a bird flying low,
or some big fish
swimming in shallow waters.
I was the bird flying low,
with no luck in the wild,
searching for scraps,
and saw one in tact.
It held promise.
Swallowed you whole
and lost all of my feathers
expelling you out.
You were for the big fish.
The ones who only bite off
what they can chew.
I cannot consume
you who poisons me.