All the poems are from you

I feel idiotic, I don’t know what to do

Every single time I read a poem

I think it’s from you

Oh I know, it’s not really true

But it’s so hard to forget

How much

I miss you

I read a little, I read a lot

I feel I’m drawing from an empty well,

A desperately hungry pot

No more balm, none to hear or say

No more lemon dreams to sprinkle my day

I read many poems by others I don’t know

I am hoping it’s your pseudonym, an anonymous, secret repartee

I find your name clocking each hour in my mind like a drop of water in a ocean

It’s so hard to let that sound in my heart go,

But I know

All those poems I’ve read

That feel like inklings of you

Are just me

And my heartbreak coming through

I hate this feeling and how this poem rhymes

I am

So old fashioned about love and relationships

I

Can’t get with the damn times

If you see this, if you’re feeling blue

Know this, I often feel it too

Maybe different shades of hue

Different shades that are similar, but ultimately a’new

Kind of color that only emits sound, the texture of human

That is something I never knew

I know I should love without bothering you

&

I know I should stop thinking all these poems are from you.