is not a word I would use to describe

someone like you

glass shards in my mother's house

tender toes

tired eyes

happy eulogies in bitter smiles

you have the heart of a poet

the mind of a poet

the fingers of a poet

but in truth

glass shards reflecting ceiling light

dancing

the strain of the tv

i don't call you beautiful

you might be a poet

i see in you

the poem.

-//a little letter to someone who writes poetry so wonderfully :))//

then

i cannot call this poem beautiful

a poem such as this

breathless and wonderful

must be called instead

by its name

so tell me, Anon,

who writes so well of me

as if you knew me in my mother’s house

you have the soul of a poet,

the tongue of a poet,

the eyes of a poet-

vision kaleidoscopic, and true

i don’t call this poem beautiful

rather this

i see as you

That's now Spanish, German, French, Ukranian, Japanese, and Chinese.