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.