crushed

Why do i write poetry

It would be easier to drink this cup of water

finish my glass of wine

wallow in the feeling of not having

you almost came over

the elation of yes

I woke to a change of plans

Crushed.

It would be easier to not want

stuck in my stories about not being want-able

Too much too much

my wanting embarrasses me, i am ashamed of my animal.

I try to write my desire

But there are so many words

and too many wounds

So i sit with this awful ache and I write a poem

Passing the time

Waiting to not want.