So Close

I try to find the words,
the right words
to describe
what you have done to me.

I search through the thoughts
of others
whose books
I trip over,
searching.

A line from one poem here
another poem there
so close…
but I’m
still
thirsty.

I still
haven’t drowned
in that welcomed sigh
that says, “This one.”

I burn my eyes
and watch the flames
grow
with my frustrated page turning.

In wonder,
I amuse myself at the thought
that perhaps
no one has ever felt
this.
How could they?

They weren’t alone with you
in the dark
when all the lights went out
and all I could see
was the moment before.
Before you
became a silhouette with a heartbeat.

I remember thinking
how if I could find you
by only the sound
of the thunder in your chest
then maybe, we didn’t need
the lightening.

was that not
the only reason
I had decorated this room
black?

I stop reading
and start writing.
Smoke clouds any pretty words
my dirty mouth
can mutter.
This. Yes this.
This is what you have done to me.
You have turned me into a poet.
Waiting in the dark
for a verse
I know
is

So close…