I am waiting for the words to stop forming.
This communication gap is no more than
a bridge I cannot cross.
A mute moat.

I'm not willing to sacrifice it to well-formed
metaphor for, as it stands, it says what
it needs to say--effectively.
It only lacks the color.

I just keep trying to tell you, trying to
make it known to you that I cannot be
a poet. I cannot make all these words
fit in.

That maybe I'm not right for you. That
maybe you should find something else
and hoping hoping hoping I am
wrong.

For weeks you've been my waking
thought, for weeks you've been my
reason to be led astray and to
stop caring and
to stop questioning and
to stop being so damn
straightforward.

12/08/2004

Author's Note: I just thought I'd write something notsoflowery. Being artistic can be exceedingly tedious...I think its nice to just say it straight sometimes. Some of the best poetry is like that, I think.

Posted on 12/08/2004
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