Words on the page

Hi everyone, and welcome to my blog. I promise I won't bore you with too much of an introduction. You should already know me if you're reading this, so I'll just say this for anyone who stumbled here by accident: contrary to popular belief, I do not conduct photosynthesis. I do, however, write poetry. So here's the poem for today, which I wrote about a half hour ago.


"Words on the page"

What if I gave you a rough word?
I could shave away the edges with my
sandpaper love,
and try to tell you what I really meant
when I said I loved you.
To tell you the truth,
I'm still unsure.
I spit (in messy cursive)
words on the page
but I rarely make sense.
I could give you a filed-down word
but ragged-edged truth dictates instead
that I give you love
in its myriad form,
like new wood;
tell you that I'm no lumberjack,
and I cut the branches rough.