Sometimes English fails me
Sometimes there are no words, but today there are
And today it is him I scribble down adjectives about in erasable pen
Onto an old green notebook, I forgot I still had
He is the wind and the stars and all that stuff you’ve heard before
Except this one’s not
He’s an adventure
An experience
He wasn’t so much love as an excuse for bad behavior
I know we’re not written in the stars
But you also can’t write love poems in pencil
So I write about him in erasable pen
Maybe it’s more comforting that way
Like I can just erase this when things get too real
Backspace Backspace Backspace
But it’s not pencil, pencil is for daydreamers
Pencil is the fantasy, this is the
cold
hard
ink
And perhaps
I should use wax
But crayons are for children
And however immature this is it’s definitely not childish
Besides to etch us in to color would be to wear rose colored glasses
I should tell this story like it is
Backspace Backspace Backspace
I should imprint in icy ink
But ink is too permanent it confirms this feeling
So I write in erasable pen
So I can pretend that he will wash away with a little rubber
But they never quite work like they’re supposed to
And now there’s blue marks on my paper
They look oddly like my tears
I erase and erase but the page only tears
I should’ve known how fragile it would be
And now there is no poem
Only a blue stained girl
With a teared in two heart
Ink flows down her face because I was wrong
A love poem
is always a love poem
Whether you write in stars for the world to see
Or the sand for the ocean to wash over
It is love, it is love, it is love
Remember this
Now go

And write love poems in ink and have no regrets