I picked up a pen and paper today and
Stared at it awhile,
Wondering if the words I wrote
Could form you on this page.

I looked into the mirror today and
Tried to see what you do,
Said a few words and only half-cringed,
(Which I guess is an improvement.)

I laid upon my bed today and
Wrote about time past,
Nearly crumpled up the page until
I realized I'd be crumpling you.

(I wonder if you realize that
Every single word was true.)

These tears sung their sad lullabies

Reasons not worth mention.
(Like tickle fights or whipped cream kisses and
Rings encased in plastic.)

But though you're stone, you float as pumice;
Just keep on doing the doggie paddle
(We were both too panicked to think of the breast stroke.)

And when we come to shore we'll share our breaths and
Let flannel dry these bones.

And upon simple request,
She saw my dedicated poetry
No longer dedicated to her.

(I say I owe her so many things,
But maybe I just owe her the truth.)

I paced in tireless circles today and
Let these teeth tear into lips,
Calling upon the phrases
Desperate for release, yet
Somehow knowing they'd
Missed the train.

I want to write you an epic,
Sweep your feet from ground and
Carry you home,
Caress you in eloquence and
Demonstrate your importance.

(For you truly are my world.)