Keep asking cause you’ve smbitten me.
If they were secure as me, they’d be free laughing hysterically underneath the foldout bed here with me,
Crazy thing, finding the perfect between extremes:
listens / disappears / won’t shut up / “Yes we know you’re here.”
How many sucker souls daily get seduced by your curiosity?
Tell me and keep asking, too, ’cause you’ve smbitten me.
Could I love this way? Is your interest real?
Yeah, but
could I get over the jealousy
of your interest–in all the other Mr. Mysterys?
Author Note: this is more of an appreciation poem than a love poem. i guess it's a love poem in the sense of the genre, but it's not very sentimental, just pining.
About the author
I live with my wife, an artist, in Indianapolis. Besides poetry, I like to take photographs, read books, travel overseas, and listen to news/political podcasts, college lectures and classic literature. You can read about my approach to poetry on my poetics page. To stay in touch, follow me on Twitter or connect on a variety of other social networks.
Leave a Reply