*

i found myself today
becoming poetry;
paperthin and stupidly fragile
too many scribbles
too many mistakes,
and an overworked line
still dripping cliche,
consistently failing to make sense

but i think my basic idea
is a good one
and sometimes there is no scribbling,
just certainty,
and i like that little verse
at the heart of it all
and i hope you do too
and maybe you'll even love it,
reread it over&over
tattoo it somewhere inside
and treasure it,
even though it's only
a neverending draft

and maybe you'll wait for me
to get that final stanza right,
find the dance of inspiration
wordshaping me perfect
and immortal;

but if i do not,
i hope that little verse
at the heart of it all -
surrounded by error
and another cliche -
stays with you regardless,
incomplete yet
adored.

*

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