I think of him too much
Way too much
So much that
Bed time has become
He's in my head time
Because thoughts of him
Need to be fed time
Like our time is limitless
Like how infinity
Decided to shed time
Much too much
I'm even having trouble
Finishing this poem
Because thoughts of him
Have consumed my art
I attempt to write words
And end up drawing little hearts
Like mine is clouded with him
I've got these little voices in my head
And I swear they sound like him
I'm drowned in him
Like he's the ocean
And my tide is bound to him
Like I washed ashore
And my treasure was found in him
I feel like crowning him my king
And singing 'All hail to him'
Like I am his council
His kingdom
His humble maiden
Never imagining freedom
But praying to God
That he'd come conquer my queendome
I feel like I need him
Like I can't create
If he's not my muse
Like I can't move the crowd
If he's not my blues
Like I can't belt melodies
If he's not my tunes
Like I can't be on my 'p's'
If he's not my 'q's'
Like my sex can't moan "Aaaaah's"
If he's not my "Ooooo's"
Like....
Like...
This poem is at a loss for words
And he's calling now,
May I be excused?


soprofound c. 2009