Letter To Poetry
Dear Poetry,
Why do you come in the most inconvenient of times?
In between breaths
Or in between lovers.
Because those are times where I find no Inspiration without perspiring.
The times where you're deep in the sea.
See?
Why must you come from the 2 AM blues?
And not from the 6 AM giggles.
Because now all my poems are depressing
And not worth listening to.
You come when no paper is around
And my arms are already covered in
Little reminders.
And I can never find you when I need you.
You always seem to be hiding in the wrinkles
Of my cerebrum.