My One and Only Poetry Fan, I Think

Hey, put this shit on pause We'll be back in a bit With some more lovely rhetoric Right now, we'll slow down for a sec Sometimes I feel like it was always my writing It started binding us from the beginning I didn't intend for it to be that way But that's always what it becomes Like my words hold no more weight in conversation Because the truth escapes on blank sheets But she kept on reading So I kept on sending And I made more and more Like a curse Like the billiard table pockets She gently waves her fingers Charming them to deny me A curse she calls a gift She says I found freedom here But I feel like I couldn't live anywhere else So I formed the prison I gave it shape And she became the prisoner shortly after she became the subject And maybe this is bold to say But it could be the cornerstone of this entire relationship Even when she was around me Breathing, sleeping, laughing Crying and caressing She still seems so much more alive When I look through all the writing Then it started bleeding Rolling out and then embracing Until she felt the touch again Next she's sending pieces to me What she lacked in sheer quantity Was made up in genius quality I could write her under the table But her responses were so cutting So calculated and clever It threw dirt on all my rawness She told me I made her write again Really, though, I'm the one who was inspired But she has every single piece I could send her She saved them up and collected them She turned me into an author I can't express what that means to me I am humbled to the core But I'm trapped I'm so stuck in this story I'm blurring reality Creating two separate images in my mind And I don't know which one is more real The one I can touch The one I can feel and hear She remains outside my reach But the one I've captured in black stains Sits at my bedside Lulling me to sleep each night In essence I've made her immortal Forever connected Forever mine in this captured piece of time No matter where she goes What she does This will always exist A curse and gift That will forever connect us with tiny lines That will stretch out through whatever time She will see it And be reminded She will never be able to deny it Or forget It will always follow Somewhere Some day It will resurface Because if I'm to be refused in the now Then I will cement myself in the past The curse and the gift And so it is my job is finished For I cannot be there to strengthen her If she feels she cannot go it alone Or if she finally finds a way to fight it off This piece will remind her