And I Write Him Poems

Yes I write him poems
Poems of devotion, of melancholy
Of heartaches, of furtive desires
Of dreams seemingly out of reach
There are also poems woven out of tears
As well as verses of collaged laughter
For years I have written him poems
Some carved out of anxiety
Others are company in sleepless evenings
There are also lines drawn
From the first morning breath
And stanzas pulled out from raindrops
Strong as steel
There are also words crafted
From the pyre of anger and malice
And from some stranger’s smile
While traversing a street
Yes I wrote him poems
Quickly whipped while cooking
At times tediously designed
There are also those
Derived from his name,
His burning passion
For life, freedom, spontaneity, illegitimacy
Yes I write him poems
Poems to breathe life
Or kill boredom
To put boulders in the feeling
Of lightheaded-ness
To spawn peace
Most of the time to summon an end
An end as elusive as the fittest utterance