Poetry

I don't always feel comfortable sharing poems, but I am attempting to gain some confidence, or at least nerve, in my poetry writing hobby. I found this poem tonight after writing it earlier this year. I just revised it, and I am quite pleased at the result. I hope you like it too (whoever you are).

I tried not writing this poem.

There is no need, I am sure. It’s like a schoolgirl with a crush

on the playground. Love poems are cliché.

So I distract myself: Internet, movie, workout, luxurious shower.

Yet here it is, patient, smiling,

knowing that it has to be written some time or other,

even if it is only when I grow tired enough to close my eyes

and catch it fidgeting on the periphery of my brain.

And yes, it’s about you.

The poem knew this all along, you see.

It knows that my feelings for you aren’t able to be kept inside,

tame and clean like a cat bathing with a scratchy tongue.

My heart behaves more like the puppy pulling the stuffing out of cushions.

So here it is—fumbling and true—the poem that begs to say:

you are beautiful. I can’t get enough of you. I’ve never felt like this before.