i used to be a poet
I used to be a poet
I used to be able to do what I wanted
and tell you about it slip slamming through words
making thoughtful soliloquies of dips in a valley
of giddy childhood joy…
but then I lost those words.
I cleaned up
lost all of my desire
so, I have stared at my screen
for these words to begin pouring out, again
for the one girl to drag them from my flesh
someone who could make me feel
and everyone’s gonna think it’s them
and women will continue coming in and out
and all of them will try to claim their prize
and even if my body rides the waves into the rocky coast
I am about to be the me, the thee,
who could live in this treehouse
I have been building all these years.
I never needed it to make sense
I’ve only needed it to happen
because the stakes are low
the reward is high
and the loss will not be that measurable
I take another dip into the forbidden pool,
the one I have soaked myself filthy in once before
It was a different time
I am trying to hold onto someone long enough
to take one breath with
at the end of the day,
that’s what never stops
and I want to stop this selfish streak
and share my breathing
I want to wake up
smelling that dew covered flower whispering from her mouth
I want to feel
the breeze of her hand passing by my ear
as she curls up,
five more minutes,
refusing to allow me to grow up
to begin my day.
It’s a good feeling.
Waking up with a woman you desire in your bed
Coming to and knowing
your first thought is her
the vulnerable selflessness.
And, when you wake up,
she is as in love as you are.
that’s something a poet could not describe anyway.