Poem: I Would Struggle to Put You Into Words

It has taken me days

of tapping keys underneath artificial light,
and hours of ink stains on the pads of my fingers,
to produce a message
beautiful enough for you to read.

But I learned about the crease on your brow,
that the meaning of it is
a clear white pain or deep black pleasure,

how the expressions you make now
have not changed since you were a boy
hiding shoes in the bathtub,

and the new, never recorded recollection
that gathers in your eyes,
when you look beyond at what I can’t see yet.

Knowing all these things has led me
to one, absolutely certain conclusion:

If you told me you had to leave,
the last night with you
would be the easiest choice I’ve ever made.