words after midnight

i realized why
all of the “poems” about you
sound like they’re no good-
i’m intimidated
by the way you handle your words,
the way you seem to be a master of ELA,
a black belt.

while i struggle
to even make it
to class on time
and i start to think
things need to rhyme.

but i lost my textbook
at a library book sale,
then again
maybe i left it there
on purpose.

and real life
just doesn’t cut it
with words about you.

i guess it’s because
you’ve only ever existed
as words back-lit by white.

mostly i have no form,
but my free-form gets stuck
in a cage
when the words drift
in your direction.

someday i’ll get over it
and stop writing poor poetry
about you, to you, for you.

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