God’s Favourite Piece

What does it feel like to fall in love with a poet?
It’s confusing, it’s being unsure of what is actually real and what is mere poetry
It’s being told about how your lips feel like God’s airbrush as he paints his favourite image – which is you by the way
It’s waking up to poems about how the contour of your body when you sleep is like the lines on the face of the moon
What does it feel like to fall in love with a poet?
It’s doubting every word they say, “maybe this too is a lie”
When they swear that the first day they locked eyes with you, their belly ruffled, not from a runny stomach, but from the number of butterflies that filled it up in an instant
How time stood still, but their heart couldn’t stop thumping with all the vigor and speed it could muster
Falling in love with a poet is beautiful, it’s ethereal
It’s letting the pheromones wash your brain and leave your mouth gaping for lack of words
I know this for a fact because that’s exactly how I feel everytime I look at you
Only, you’re not a poet, you’re the poem, God’s favourite piece.
What does it feel like to fall in love with a poet?

Ideation, Grief and Beauty

How do you do it – do this?
Be so perfect at living, at being, at being alive?
I see you smile on days your eyes tell different tales
When your skin swears and cusses and screams its tiredness?
How do you do this? Be this amazing?
At what point in your creation were you made this beautiful?
And not just what your face looks like, but what your heart feels like
Like the last drop of Caprisun, like angel petals
I saw you the other day in your element
Watching a video on your phone when you had just heard the worst news
Laughing like it was your last chance to ever be happy
Gleaming like a candle lit in hades
I saw you, with such splendor and calm
Without a care in the world, without any bother at all
And I prayed a little that you never lose that – your soul
Because in that moment, even now, you’re the most beautiful thing God ever created
How do you do that?