Saturday, September 17, 2011

Day 788: this poem is not called routine

there arent many things i do
every day
like ritual
other than those that have to do with hygiene
and writing poetry
because ts important
and necessary
but you
have worked your way into my routine
with your smile
and lips
and the curl of your laugh
i find myself doing a lot of the same things each day
in my pursuit of your attention
im not sure how to harness this kind of emotion
but i know
its the kind of thing that sticks to the roof of my mouth
some nights when i try to speak
nothing but peanut butter comes out
i am just a broken damn
with too many words to make sense of
all flying in your direction

i realize i dont write much about you
but i think
its because i try to write to uncover something iʻve forgotten
but you
you are too recent
too now
to be a memory
fading into the ocean
and i am too stubborn to be anything but a sensitive poet

this line is for the morning
and this for the night
for the parts of our days we spend alone
waiting for the sun to raise or fall on the other side of the world
that i am falling alseep to the same lonliness you wake to
that this poem
however unorganized
is just another record
of the things i do
to try to feel close to you
in this endless distance

1 comment:

  1. "i am too stubborn to be anything but a sensitive poet"

    Love this line!