This Isn't a Poem...

Something about her makes me want to write poetry
But I'm not a poet
I think she loves this kind of thing
But you would never know it
I'm listening for the words
Any
Stop, Go, Yes, No
Plenty
But they never come
That's fine
I hate writing poetry.
I can't rhyme.

So I don't

No more poems
No more songs
No more sonatas

So I won't

From now on it's just dreams
about you
Because the art just isn't the same
without you
The words don't work
the pictures are fuzzy
The gifts are gone
and so is the money

Just a pen and a paper
that's too bad
Because this isn't a poem
It's just a collection of words I've heard over the years and compiled into something other than tears, fears and passions, just thoughts. No paintings, no captions, anything but art, but everything for you. For her. For them. For us.