I Want You
I don't see anybody else because they aren't you.
Somedays, my inspiration flows from my fingertips
Spiraling across pages
Eloquent and heart-wrenching
Other days, I scribble dead end sentences
Sloppy and without passion
The other days aren't you.
They do matter, those half wit constructions
Providing only bits and pieces
To one beautiful work
You are a novel
Gushing from my pen
I don't want a string of simple words that fall off my pages as the seasons change
I want volumes etched into trees, bound by the earth
I want you.
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