Not sure about the quota
the stats
for the day
but I cannot switch it off.
My Reader says,
I read you breathlessly
eager to ingest
every word
like hard liquor
burning my insides.
(And here I thought
I was nothing special
full of self-doubt
and betrayal).

Do I excite you? In what way?
To hold me close
to smell my skin
to part my legs
and feel me from within?
I know about the phases.
I read Neruda’s sonnets
the morning, the afternoon, the evening
and I feel his currents
sweep me into his waves
that crash against my body.

I’m truly a romantic fool
yet so alive
with wonder
like a little girl
lost in a shopping mall.

When I see the wicked words
I want to bathe naked in them.
Can you imagine such a scene?
Shredded paper in the floating water.
I am sure you would comply
if I ask such strange requests.
You open up my soul
these words
come out like waterfall
with no self-control
no edits.

I stop washing dishes
forget to eat
all to get this cough of words
stuck in my throat
to you,
whether you read me or not
others need it too.

Now I get stopped in the street
my identity no longer hushed
I love your poems
I read them every day
Please keep them coming

so this one is for you, my Reader
the ones that connect
the dotted lines
into their very own
heartbeat.

9 thoughts on “For you, The Reader

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