every
day
is
a
lifetime
and
the
night
is
taking
so long
to
arrive

It's 1:54 in the morning
where I am- in bed
and I know, even though it's 1:54 in the morning
where you are- in bed,

you are not writing a poem
for me
in the dark
under thin sheets

you are not shading in an outline
of my skin
in the dark
*******, in sweaty underwear

you are not thinking of me
in the dark
under thin sheets
*******, in sweaty underwear

like I am, of you.

maybe
if I write a poem
that encompasses
all of
my thoughts,
I can finally stop thinking

but
since all my thoughts are about you
I don't think
there are enough lines
or words
or letters

so I think
I will continue to write
all my ideas and poems
and all it-
until you finally
think of me too.

"please be happy"
she said begging,
pleading

"no" came the voice in reply,
deep within herself

It started with him,
Not so long ago
A moment in the past where
My feelings were confusing.

It started with him,
I wanted to read him over again
And analyze him,
And take notes
Figure out each phrase
And memorize themes
About him
I wanted to learn about
Every aspect
And inspect every former draft of him
And figure out why there were
Modifications and changes of him

I wanted to write him down,
Soak pen ink in his name
So I wrote poetry.

I fell in love with him
I fell in love with destructive poetry.

And then I realized one day
My metaphors were getting more passionate
But he was not,
I spent more time on line spacing
Than planning my space around him
I became wittier with words
While his jokes were getting old
He became ideas
That were better expressed by me

So I continued to write
Better poetry
And it’s not ending with him
But now with
Lovelier things,
About lovelier people

Like me-
Who I have learned about
Who I have seen more of
Who I am not afraid to change
And correct
Because of mistakes and errors
Who I have written of
Who I have written.

Singed ink in my name.

Because poetry started with him,
But it’s ending with me.

I know he is a good poem because
I want to read him over again
and analyze him
and take notes,
figure out each phrase
and memorize themes
about him
I want to learn about
every aspect
and
inspect every draft of former him
and learn why there
were
modifications and changes of him

but-
I also want to feel him,
without looking too closely
to just take a glance
and know
who he is
to connect
and love,
and preserve how he is read
because at first sight,
I knew I would memorize him
like that one truly good poem.

A million blades
of grass- yet so few to have
ever walked on them

A million blades
of grass- a few million
yet ever walked on

A million blades
of grass- a few million
yet to see, to grow