I see you happy.
Flowers smile at the sight of a woman and her child.
God is proud of his world, as the angels smile.
I brace my chest and growl the pain away.

I see you eager.
Infecting others with a desire to please.
Breeze, the love you spread fills minds with ease.
I ball up my fists and dig my own nails into my hands.

I see you care.
The smile you give, the hand you extend. I could never repay such kindness again.
Forever I am lost, lost and in love. With a taken woman.
My scowl answers your extended hand.

I see you go.
And I tear every memory of you from my heart, and write it into a poem.

you lean in
give me that look that says “my god i can’t believe you’re alive”, you make me feel worth something
we kiss, you deepen it, light and gentle is never enough
hands run all over, trying to find where x marks the spot
strike gold, get lucky
we stop, i like you.
i go over again, only two days apart
the story repeats
i like you, you lust me
you think i’m pretty, a nice statement piece
a treasure locked behind closed doors, just another plastic participation trophy in the open
i know i’ll see you running around with some other girl, and i’ll still be here convincing myself that i’m over it

How many times will a poet
write
about writing
poetry?

TBD.

applause

"You must be very proud of yourself."

Everything is shaped like
The world tree
But when she is around
I tend to notice
The flowery ends

If the sun doesn't rise

Then Japan was wrong

And the emperor should abdicate

Most definitely