— a poem of poutpourris.

What You Mean To Me

You’re worth all the seconds I spent imagining, all the definition I poured to writings.

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

I will not treat you like
the poetries I wrote in my head
before I went to bed.
For each stanzas
would be gone instantly
alongside my consciousness
as they part ways to the dreamland.

I will not treat you like
the series of my dreams.
For each wondrous second I spent
would soon be forgotten
as I awoke myself from slumber;
as I regain what I had given up,
as I surrender to reality.

I will not bring you into line with
the substances that put me under
nor just how easy
dandelions are blown
regardless how intoxicating
each thought may have been.

You’re not close to even graze
half of what each
would ever define your existence.

The poetries, dreams, spirits, and flowers.

No, my dear,
You’re worth so much more to me.