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.

to AM:

i wanted to write you somethin’
to explain
the more i tried
the more the words never came

maybe some words are better
left unsaid
maybe i’ve said it all
with the words you’ve already read

too long i’ve only seen
this or that
nothing in between
now the middle is where i’m at

i’ll be around
if ever you want to find me
i’ve got no where to hide
but if not, don’t mind me