Ode to the Reader

You read my words first.

Perhaps out loud,

or maybe in your head.

I wonder what your voice sounds like.

I wonder how you’ll say each word.

Pronounce each syllable, 

hang on to me.

Maybe a part of you falls in love.

In love with the words,

in love with me.

Maybe a part of you never stops reading.

Perhaps you hate me.

These words are childish.

Poetry is blissful ignorance.

Love, death, the art of a blossoming tree.

I have always loved you, though.

I have waited for you to read me.

To spread your fingers across the page,

The warmth of you delights me.

I wont ever stop loving you,

In fact I wont ever leave.

I will be right here,

Stuck in the pages.

Stuck in the words,

the sentences,

the syllables that you slur so carefully.

I have loved you all along.

And even if you forget,

I will love you then too.

Because poetry is made to love,

And for you I always do.