Some days I wish I could write the way I used to before
back when I wrote those poems of you,
back when I was full with longing and driven by need.
But I know I will write again someday
and not just about you
maybe it won’t be about you
I’ll write about red nail polish
and biting into apples ripe with truth and knowledge
I’ll write about the sea–
one part calm, one part stormy
and oh, how I thrive in both,
how I am both,
that I would continue to be both.
Maybe I could write about you someday with no regrets
And finally lay these bones of longing to rest.