Jun 27

I Do Not Write Poetry For You

I do not write poetry for you,
and not all my poetry is about myself.

I do not hold up my tongue to try and
cup the remaining poetry draining from my mouth.

I do not drown in floods
and rise again in the same life.

I do not fold my ugly parts over,
like my mother folds laundry,
but that doesn't mean I don't want to.

I still want to hide the parts of me
that other people don't want to carry
underneath my beautiful parts.
I would say beauty could act as a Band-Aid
but instead it always ends up being the pain.

My poetry is not of the millions,
yet in your every poem...
there I am.

Erase me from your poem,
the whole thing.
But I'll still be imprinted in
shadow upon the page.

A scar you can't cover
with beauty or bodily tissue.

Burn the page,
you'll still find me in every poem you write.

Burn the whole damn journal,
I'll still be in the poems you can't
seem to shake from your 

shower plug,
your table place candle,
your dead flowers garden,
your ashes,
your bright new day,
your dancing swing music,
your sky,
your blue baby cowl,
your Oxford Dictionary,
your Chaga tincture,
your old heart,
your favorite number,
your grandfather's wind chime,
your faltering eyelids,
your new heart,

you're poetry that isn't for anyone else.
You're poetry that is for everyone else,
I'm poetry that is for everyone but me.

I do not write poetry because you asked me to,
I do not write poetry for you unless I want to.

I do not rush into tomorrow 

I do not space myself in day and night

I simply exist between them

I do not live for the success of life.

I do not live because you want me to,
and if you told me to stop...
I would merely pause

and keep on breathing.