A Word Or Two

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She once asked me to come out of the stool

So that I may recite a word or two

Cause she wants to see how my words stand on their own

But I told her that I bleed when I recall anything I wrote

And thus I prefer wrapping her up in my failed attempts at thought and freed notes

Where a scratch on paper is dissatisfaction and a rolled up page is testimony that I could not go

See, I prefer reading her out on to pages, cold mornings and crowded silence

Where the only critic is my heart paying her penance for my mouth’s rejection of an audience

I preferred the opportunity to sit with memories that I may introduce them to dreams

By way of today holding now captive at a poem’s ransom

Where I can be the hero that never flew

Or one that she never knew

She once asked me to come out of the stool

So that I may recite a word or two

I stumbled and fell on my way to and landed where she stood

As a way to say my words and I are one man