Writing Another Poem

I have written so much about you.

So many things I wanted to want to say to you.

Things like I hate you

Or I love you

Or I’m over you.

But whenever I wrote them down

You never read them in your reflection.

Always just mediocre poems about a nameless man.

But I realize now what I want to say to you.

 I want to say I’m here.

 In two senses.

 I am here

 I exist.

I am both solid and of mass.

I cannot be unseen or transmuted.

I am existing.

And also if you ever truly understand the first half

 I’ll always hold your hand.

There will always be a place for you.

There will always be one word in each poem

Just for you.