I know what you’re thinking:/
“F U”. /
Even without drinking:/
“F U!”

So much to discuss,/
but instead, you fuss/
about a weekend alone./
Where’s your phone?/

IF U
wanna call
there’s al
ways me to turn to.

IF U
wanted 2.

If I were over at your place,/
I’d reach over and caress your face./
But I’m not,/
so I thought/
I’ll send you my feelings through space.

As you know,/
Cyrano/
did much of his best work/
orally,/
and verbally,/
under the balcony./
Not just a written poet, he!/
His muse was finest,/
and at its divinest,/
when he could see,/
Roxanne./
(“But”, you’ll say, “you can’t see/
me!”)
In my mind I can.

Today I was told/
I look old./
Fat?/
Not wear it’s at./
2nite my body hurts/
on my way 2 being thin./
But if I do hard work,/
my heart won’t hurt/
that way again.

I didn’t know/
the glow/
of her hair,/
the stars that show’d/
captured there/
in her eyes/
would surprise/
me 2 where/
I’d stay awake ’til sunrise,/
hoping she’d care.

I just slightly care/
that you do not want me there./
You’re still in my prayers.

Creativity is a beast/
that, left too long leashed,/
turns savage,/
and begins to ravage,/
and kills itself in the feast.

Is it fun/
2 get thus turned on?/
Is it me/
who’s sexy?/
Or poetry/
that sets thee/
on fire/
with desire?/
(He asks coy questions with a smirk/
as she heads off 2 work.)

I, thru the winter wait,/
sleeping hung,/
but now am awake,/
and sprung/
into action/
because of the attraction/
your words create./
I dont want 2 wait/
4 satisfaction.

That’s 2 poems u’ve received/
from me./
Oh wait! Here’s 3,/
to thee./
And if I send one more,/
that will be 4!/
A quad of rhymes sent/
2 someone I haven’t/
yet/
met.