tiny broken pieces and a faint memory of you

poetry is nothing-eighty four

poetry in the rainy day and between heaven and disaster is useless
when you're with me
poetry never seems to capture me enough because you,
you are inevitable
poetry seems to be such a little thing when you suddenly appear
poetry is such a hard, useless thing when you're all I think about
but then, poetry cannot even articulate how I feel about you-
especially if your name is what's on my mind,
speaking it in a loop-
and it never seems to stop.