Dear Anai (sorry for the spelling) Nin

when you
talk of
lies
that reside
in your
being
I wonder
if
they
are the
reason
why
my
‘goodnight’
is often
spelled
as
‘goodbye’

and why
I
smile
and
laugh
and
wear
yellow
and eat
ice cream
and play
board games
all
by myself
when
in
my
head
I just
want
to
s l i t
open
the
tattoo on
my wrist

I wonder
if
when
I read
your
words
the
hair on
my arms
stand up-
find meaning
and
I wonder
if
the
hair
indeed
could ever
have an
existential
crisis

I wonder
if
my coffee
would taste
bitter
if I
stopped
reading
poetry;
and I wonder
if my coffee
isn’t
bitter already

I
don’t
know

Honestly

I don’t know
how long
a poem
can be
and why
sentences
written
in words
can ever
be called
poetry

but I know
these
words:
yours-
make me
drink more
coffee
and
you
are called
an ‘essayist’

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