I can write for hours and hours on end,
Asking, “how can I write like she?”
But the answer to my question is,
I do not speak poetry.

I try to pay attention to every detail,
How every single word is strung,
Oh, but how I wish
The sweet words could just dance off my tongue,

I wish I could be like a poem,
Sitting so neatly in lines.
But maybe instead I’m more like a word,
That no one has learned to define.

I long to be like a sentence,
That shakes you to the core.
But, I am too complex
To be crammed into a single metaphor.

I’m not really sure what I’m doing,
But not everything you write needs to say,
“This is me”.
Because of the fact that I’m ok with knowing,
I do not speak poetry.