Bullseye

Do you deserve poetry?
I don’t know.

You’ve finally
done something
worth writing about
but what do I say?

Different hands.
Large, strong
and calloused.
But so sure.
So real and
confident
under mine.

A different way
to breathe in
and out and
different ears
with which
to hear it.

And yet the same.
I can’t explain it
or contain it and
there isn’t one
single solitary
part of me that
wants to try.

Do you deserve poetry?
I suppose you do.
~12/30/15

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