why can't I write what you want me to

why is it so hard

to write happy poetry?


being with you

sends jitters down my spine


it's like a puzzle piece




my hand

always manages to find yours

we could be in a sea of other creatures


and still our hands would meet each other

and interlock


my lips

always meet yours

at the most inappropriate moments

like in a crowded movie theater

or at your grandparents' house

or in my bed

when my parents are downstairs


my heart

always stretches towards yours

and aches when it doesn't find yours



I have




in love

with you


it's been an amazing, wonderful journey

and I'm happy


I'm really, truly happy,

possibly for the first time

in my life


so how come

whenever I try to write poetry

it becomes a lament to how far away you are

or a fictional story about a married couple that isn't us

or a testament to how shitty of a person I am

instead of a proclamation

a delcaration

of how far I've fallen

and how deep my heart plunges

when I see you wearing blue


how come

I can't write a decent poem

about the way you cradle me in cold weather

and warm me up down to my toes like I'm in a pot of soup


or the way your cologne sticks to my shirt

and the way it comforts me to cuddle with that shirt all night long


or the way we whisper silly things to each other

and blow in each other's ears

and giggle like children

over nothing


or the way

every time your eyes crinkle

and your dimples appear

my stomach flips

and I fall all over again


why don't I ever

write poetry

about that

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