Poems about you
I have written so many poems about you…
Nothing spectacular
to anyone besides myself…
but it’s what I do when
you catch me
in those dark corners
squinting ink onto
undiscarded receipts
scribbling meaninglessly
because I have something to lose
which nobody else wants
least of all you…
It’s okay, though
because
it wasn’t about you anyway.
Or else, I can pretend.
As though I thought I could walk
out of your spot
the way I walked in.
(And why not? There’s only the one door…)
But it’s not okay
because
The floods
the liquid thoughts (and other silly things)
the emissions, positions
suppositions
the speechlessness you manufacture
by looking at me
through me
at me…
Where do they go?
Out the door where I came in?
I cannot go out that door.
My legs have melted.
I cannot say…
There are things I cannot say…
There are things
you won’t let me say…
These poems you will never read
these songs I will never sing
at least
I’ll never sing
to you…
