Day 9: A love poem

––With him

irregular rug that trips my feet
straighten the wrinkles between
requests and questions beneath
lights so bright
and blinding

he surveys the tiles and I
say  N O T H I N G  or
s o m e t h i n g when I just
want to pull him in and––

SPEAK.

He stutters and he
mumbles like I do
constant wonder

what am I doing?
Nothing.
then stop thinking
No.
no?
Can’t.

Why don’t I let––
Go far away and he drives with my songs in his head I
hope and just for a moment I’m––

Written for poetry studio class.

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