I've written the sky into storms
January into June
I've written on razor blades
and get well soon balloons
Words on loose lips in the shape of I
Words in brave tongues, too.
I've written piece by piece a memoir
of fractions, things that are half
desolate, then half distraction
Words on open books that you told
me to read
Words in late night drunken battles
The ones I wanted to need.
I've written bad jokes that used to
make you laugh.
I've written my last poem to you,
and this is just that.