Allusion

I write love poems

because I’m selfish.

I give you flesh

in broken words and phrases

so in the white spaces

I might possess you.

I capture you between words

and sentences laying you down

in lines.

I place a comma

so you might breathe

and come to life

for me.

I place a full-stop

now here, now there,

almost carelessly,

so you might cease

and listen

to me.

I give you thoughts

in words and words from thoughts

so you might agree.

I give you a face

in a verse.

I make you smile

or perhaps flood you

in a trail of letters

swimming down your cheek

to believe

they are yours to give.

(But if I dare be honest,

they are only mine.)

Two symmetrical phrases

slide down to become hands

as I caress them

under the sharpness of my pen;

they come alive

in slow dancing movements

to form an embrace

in a complete sentence.

I wish to give you wings...

But then I’d better not.

I write love poems

because I’m selfish.

so that I might possess you

and grant you the gift of eternity.

But within the folds

of my pages

you will be lost one day,

to be smudged

burnt and buried.

You too!

You intangible one.

Yet I have sat down to conjure

lifeless words,

sentences, verses, scattering

commas and full-stops

across barren sheets

to resurrect you;

so that I can play God

and grant you justice

for your indifference

and hate.

I write love poems

so that you might love

me.