I will keep writing you
in empty parking lots
on door steps
in old old hotel hallways
I keep writing you every time you smile at me
every time you laugh
with every tender moment that pours from you like morning sunlight
I keep writing you in haste
in fervor
in lust
in rust
in the deepest shades of red
over & over
I keep writing you,
your scent filling up the passenger seat of my car
your stories filling the air, dragging longer
peering into parts of you after all
I keep writing you
I keep trying to put you down
but you are the poem,
and kissing you is another poem
lingering after you is a third
watching you is a fourth
sitting across from you beside the window, a fifth
I keep writing you because every time I kiss you, I remember why I’ve written 20 poems about your lips, your touch, your hair
I keep writing you
because I wished for another poem