i used to be a poet

by anthony

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 rhythm

of giddy childhood joy…

but then I lost those words.

I cleaned up

became responsible

lost all of my desire

so, I have stared at my screen

waiting

for these words to begin pouring out, again

waiting

for the one girl to drag them from my flesh

someone who could make me feel

comfortable,

happy,

comfortably happy

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

and now

well

I am trying to hold onto someone long enough

to take one breath with

because

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

knowing

the vulnerable selflessness.

And, when you wake up,

she is as in love as you are.

 

ah, well…

that’s something a poet could not describe anyway.

 

af