My Metaphors

You wrote this poem once
You wrote it in your hands
With me right next to you
When I was only one
One poem
and you a writer
a thought before
lost to all of your
darkened memories

so it was just my own
In that one moment one
Did the words refrain
In that  one moment
before you said them again
it was happening before
You read my poetry mind
Oh, this one poem

Intense and transcendental
so that words were said
and your black eyes
that burst into blue
and ramble on they rambled
could become
blind, or me lost in time
intangible! intangible.
Your eyes spoke liquid dreams!

I was stirring with something
stirred by a kind of energy
this frightful energy
a siren on a playground
red, engine red, sorry
fire engine red...crayon red
Spinning like a siren
And I sent it to you
I'm sorry...I apologize
It's my fault...
Blame me, please.
You owe me the right
because you really know
It was made by me...
It was only mine...
I claim the right to this poem...
It's a lovely metaphor
but it's mine.