Old Words

Today I went digging
through the old words
looking for pieces of myself
that you would recognize.

But, I’m not there anymore,
buried under words and bodies,
buried under the weight of them.

I think of the women
who write volumes and then
light them on fire
when the story ends.

Well, I won’t engulf
mine in flames, but
I’m glad they aren’t
burning me anymore.

36/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year

How Does it Feel?

Now you’re the lover
of a lover of words,
a girl who traces
stanzas on your bare chest
and taps out haikus
on her fingertips
when you talk on the phone.

How does it feel
to know you’ll be the one
she writes at least
one hundred poems about,
to know you’re the one
she always thinks of first
whenever she picks up her pen?

33/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year