i used to be a poet
not one of those battling poets
fighting with InFlecTIONS of voices
in order to make the words more meaningful.
It was nothing that could be taught.
It was a feeling.
A love affair
i lost one night between deep breaths and
erotic fantasies
my poetry crept out with the man
i loved and went gallivanting down the street
without leaving a note of goodbye.
see ya later
after while crocodile
It was gone.
Now my skin doesn't feel right
and sometimes these jeans feel way
too tight
but i keep living
even though i don't know how without the words
Those words.
i thought they were my words
to kiss goodnight and then hug in the morning
and take them with me to get coffee.
i buy one now.
Extra hot so that it burns my tongue
for having the audacity to kiss
him too many times
forgetting that those lips weren't mine either
If only i could dunk my entire body in
a steamy, extra hot cup of chai
and burn my flesh that was so willing
to betray my words.
i was a poet.
i walked poetry in my heels and dresses
and poetic attitude.
i made heads turn
Oh yes. i did.
but now they try to focus on anything but me
velvet wallpaper is more interesting because
me without poetry is a hummingbird whose wings no longer flap.
Dead.
If you see my poetry, please bring it back to me.
i've posted signs.
you'll recognize it.
i need it the way trees need carbon dioxide, water and sunlight
my photosynthesis cannot happen without it
So if you find it, please toss it back in my window
leave it on my doorstep with a note attached
put an ad in the paper saying
"andrea your essence did not belong in him, with him, beside him
it is yours and I've got it
meet me at the corner of Yours and Only" signed "Amazing human being"
and i will come running
and I will be a poet again.
