Feelings On Paper

i am you

let's say,
i am you.

if i were to think of me,
with your mind doing the thinking,
i'd think like this:

i didn't know anything of poetry,
but she was so in love with ink and paper,
that i learned how to rhyme.

i didn't know anything about structure,
but she was so excited to share poetry at night,
that i learned parallelism.

i never loved the color purple,
just had a knack for it,
but she decorated her entire room in purple,
that i learned the difference between lilac and lavender.

i never liked the idea of making love,
just tried it out every so often,
but she looked so beautiful as she asked for kisses,
that i learned the difference between fucking and loving.

she hated the patriarchy,
so i educated myself and became a feminist.

she loved the environment,
so i started picking up every paper on the street.

never did i consider myself emotional,
but when she cried and hiccuped for a hug,
i felt my hands tremble with her sadness.

never did i consider myself active,
but when she asked and begged to go out,
i found myself spending less time inside.

i told her to guess my favorite type of writing,
she guessed fairytale,
but she didn't realize she made me love poetry.

i told her to guess my favorite color,
she guessed black,
but she didn't realize she made me love all shades of purple.

i didn't believe in witches,
but every one of her predictions and dreams,
ridiculed my own science.

i didn't believe in love,
but every one of her poems dedicated to me,
brought feelings i didn't know existed to life.

i didn't know happiness,
but her smile was so bright,
i found myself thinking,
joy was right in front of me.