For hours today, I searched –
   wanting poetry
  that would wrap you up,
    saying all the things I think
         when I kiss you.
I looked in favorite zines and books,
      read line after line of
  word sculptures that said nothing
                 about me and you

I couldn’t find a love poem
  that wasn’t about love
but about maybe-love,
          almost-love,
     might-turn-into-love-
               if-things-go-on-like-this,
couldn’t find something that said
  It’s Only Been A Few Weeks
   And I’m Not Sure Yet
  Might Not Be Sure For A Long, Long Time,
  But This Feels Kinda Something Like
       Falling In Love
                (I Think)

I looked for a poem to say
        I Want You
but not     I Need You
to say     I Like Having You Around
    (holding hands in the car,
         arguing over music,
   eating greasy grilled cheese at 4 am,
       then waking up entangled at noon)
while still saying I Like To Be Alone
(having time to read, bake,
         sing along to bad country,
  to be perfectly content waking up by myself)

I wanted a poem like a pocket
        just the right size to hold us,
a poem that would capture
   my arms around your waist,
  the mix tape you made me,
   how you don’t like tie-dye but that’s okay,
  how we both tried not to get attached

                     but failed
            and admitted defeat
                           in an Oklahoma motel room

I wanted a poem that spelled out your name
        (in purple with glitter
               and fairy wings)
   and told you that if you keep
       smiling at me that way
  I think I could almost, maybe, someday
                  fall in love with you

I wanted it, and I looked for it,
           but the poets let me down

I guess I have to write it myself.