It was a Thursday
Two weeks since we’d first met
We were sitting under the patio overhang
Speaking in hushed symphony with the
Pitter patter of rain
When you caught a glimpse
Of the starlight
In my eyes
You’re beautiful
You said
And I wonder if you
Understood the hollow
Of your words
I may be
Enchanting when I’m
Stringing together
Soliloquies
Of daffodils and honey bees
But have you ever laid your eyes
Upon my
Existential dread
My incessant
Dialogue with death
It’s wonderful
Your love of poetry
You professed
But did you know
I don’t actually read poems
I swallow them whole
Into the pit of my stomach
Because when this world is bleak
Poetry is the only thing
I find digestible
