My Love Affair With Poetry
Nights when I’m alone,
Icy wind flittering through the window,
The absent warmth of love echoing in my empty room,
I have frequent love affairs with poetry.
Its pulsating words gush themselves out on the white blank page,
It caresses my every emotion,
Sending me reeling through a torrent of multiple ecstasy,
I scream with release as every unhinged secret is documented rhythmically,
After, subdued by unthinkable shame,
I stash it away with the refreshing slide of a closed drawer,
I light up a cigarette and lie within the sheets like a film star,
I am who I choose to be,
Husband rings, why don’t I answer the phone?
I’m having an affair with poetry.
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