Ode

Trust me, you don’t want to be the one poets write about in their books

Those people tend to be the ones who left. The ones who are gone.

The ones who inclined the artist to write just to fill in the space.

To fill the vacancies.

No, you don’t want a book

You want to be the one a poet writes on a note pad for

Someone who inspires them to no end, who makes their words and emotions pour out like the hole in an above ground pool.

The words that can’t wait on editors or publishers or book deals

The words that need to be written now. That need to be brought to life now.

On a napkin, a Post-it note, the back of an envelope, blank space of a newspaper

Any surface that a pen will work on.

You want to be the one who wakes up every morning, and sees a scribbled scrawling on your nightstand

One that’s not particularly good. With a few spelling mistakes. Definitely not ready for a book.

But one that still speaks more truthful than any prose

One that’s ready for you. That’s written for you.

For your eyes only.