Love Poem.

Empty.  Memories.

Stare through the wall, I see what's going on in there.

You're making love
to a
blank face with your eyes because they stand
poetically

I follow you, the writer.

Love Poem Number One:  Brunette hair, trails of lust along his arms.

I'll have another drink.

Love Poem Number Two:  Cry.  Don't cry.  I can see you but I need to feel you... move.

One day passes and I'm still always behind you, getting to know you because everyone talks about you.  I'm just

afraid you won't
love me
the way I do.

Love Poem Number Three:  You can see everyone else for what they are, and still find they were born from flowers.  I can see everything you are, and although you are blind, I can see your flower is the Poppy.

In front of you.  I follow you.  I do not lead
the way.

These poems here. Burn or recite, and in one last lash of glory and hope I shout every word I've ever written

release. I can run away.