if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would be volumes long and three words short
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would be in my handwriting on a napkin, and in perfect print on thick cardstock
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would be full of full-stops and commas and colons and semi-colons; and free of punctuation
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
it would fill every inch of space and breate with the white space of the empty page
it would yell from skyscraper tops and whisper between pillows
it would be raw as sharkbait and powerful as gator jaws
if only there were a poem that spoke of my love for you
if only, but there's not
so you sit ahead of me monday to friday
unaware of my cowardice
unaware of my love
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