a poet, not a poet at all

i wonder if you’re still reading me
the way someone who is captivated
by Shakespeare still reads him
even though nothing new has been written
since at latest sixteen sixteen
and don’t get me wrong,
i’m not comparing myself here
i just don’t know many greats
and Will was the first
to pop into my under-educated brain

an initial i can’t even type

sometimes i forget how to breathe
especially when i encounter a soul
i deeply wish i could fall in love with
without breaking a heart – hers, his, mine
and there’s more to me, of course
one story in particular
that i can’t bring myself to type
even though i wish you could know