Where shall I be?
Shall I be in this poem, where I am happy?
When I am writing this
I am filled with bliss
Because poetry
Is a pleasant place to be.
But a poem is tiny
Compared to the world where I stumble around
And fall in love. And fall down.
I crossed worlds to be with you
(The world is more than one world).
I sent messages across empty wastes to you
Hoping you would read
My intense need.
Did you? I never heard from you.
And that’s fine.
I’ll wait for you here.
No, here,
As I write this line.