I Wish I Was In Love With A Poet

I wish I was in love with a poet

that holds my hand at every zebra crossing like he holds his fountain pen 

so tight even after the traffic light turns red and the vehicles stop, although there isn’t any signs he won’t dare to lift his hand because he is afraid of smudging the paper-

he wanted it beautiful and pure,

two words that he will use to describe 

me; my eyes, my smile, he thanks the sculptor for the structure, skin and bones in every closing

and 

our love; innocent, sincere, naiive, he will leave a stanza in the middle 

he knows i am insecure

Like every opening he is unsure on

how to start off but 

he makes sure he has strong punchlines to convince me 

that I am right, 

of choosing this life and

choosing him to be in this life

and I am enough to make him

feel alive

like the compliments on his words

I am the reason that he wants to.

i wish i was in love with a poet

but i was in love with men like you,

who didn’t understand a word that i write,

heck, you even refused to read them 

you were clueless when i wandered around galleries but i just wanted to see your shadow under the dim spotlight of every work of art because you,

are an abstract that I couldn’t yet define and just like any creation, only the artist knows the objective and I hope it has been achieved when we met.

i wish i was in love with a poet,

but you can be a subject of my poems

and the wish is granted either way.