you make me want to write poetry
in the ways that allow looped letters
to bleed into each other, pushing
and pulling at vowels that paint pictures
of how I see the sunrise and how you
experience life. I want to experience
more of life with you in it- the constants
and the consonants will petition
with their wood hands and sign our names.
If I could string words along I’d travel
on them like a train, only to get to you.
Only to write to you. Only to write for you.