Coco

When I write,

It's not so he can read it.

It's not for my friends to read

It's not for my teachers

My acquaintances

My enemies.

I don't want

People to see me.

I don't want

I wrote a poem about you.

One you probably won’t read.

Because I don’t have the courage

And it defeats its purpose anyway

Under the green jungle crown 

you silently go, 

Shimmers of light pattering 

down onto your soft, worn skin.