To my friend who is always asking when I will write a poem about him: Happy Birthday
Hey.
What's up?
I'm not sure what to say.
Writing about someone,
to someone,
for someone,
is the most intimate conversation I know.
I could paint you on this plain document canvas,
word-wielding brush in hand,
paint splattered against us both,
and you would see a display of all the ways
I have tied myself to you.
We are knitted together by rescue knots,
simple crochet gossip, and rolls of red tape.
I couldn't get out if I tried.
Hey,
quirky smile
and concerned eyes.
What's up?
I'm not sure what you are to me.
A friend, I suppose.
Someone to stumble through life with.
Someone to tell a joke to when we both need to laugh.
Some words to wake up to.
Some unsolicited advice and a pat on the shoulder.
I'm not sure what you are to me.
I'm not sure what to say.
But
happy birthday
at least.
I'm so glad we are both alive.
YOU ARE READING
Moments Belonging to No One: A National Poetry Month Chapbook
PoetryApril is National Poetry Month, and I have decided, in honor of the month, to write 30 poems for each of the 30 days. A lot happened in my life throughout this month. Mostly what I wrote about was heartache, breakups, exhaustion, and the way life mo...
