(2014)
I’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you
To put it simply each beat of your heart is a gift that I receive with the anticipation of a child at christmas
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response
I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time
There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
I awoke from a deep sleep and knew the reason was to write I love you
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
