You askif I will write a poemI could,I supposewrite the mostsplendiferousone of allbut notrightnownot whenyour handsare brewingwarmcinnamon teaacross my skinnot when I’mtrying to imaginewhat might happenif you beganfloweringkissesuponmeMy dear,how canI writea poemwhen I’m alreadyinside one?

all my lifei have looked for poemsto elope with.

i am infinitely yearningbrimmingand overflowingin wordsi discoverit’s another wayfor meto be in tears.

all the wordsall the poems know my warm, soft spots.

Turn your fears into excitement.Your anxieties into enthusiasm. Your passion into energy.

kisses... areand always will be the only language that I will have ever truly known.

you areso deliciousto my poetic side.