Poetry Lives In Me

Poetry lives in me

Like the tempest trapped in a tin box

Fragile emotions bursting like the north wind... Escapes, only to be inked in a blank sheet.

It exposes my heart, hidden deep inside a see of dark fluid 

Desperate for attention,

Floating alone and broken in places... Waiting to be drowned with every beat.

I fall in love with her, every day, every year

Or perhaps with an image of her...

When we were young, my poetry never helped me pledge to her... My undying love at her feet.

Poetry lives in me

Buy I wish it had died!

Taking with it all my insecurities

All my guilt... All the pain,

And set me free