i no longer rhyme
Don’t even try to.
Pages are meant to be scribbled upon
And i’m still clueless
How a scribble becomes a poem.
Joining alphabets does not come easily
Words are mere inky feelings
And the jotting down is a permanence they shrink away from.
After a time you stop writing about love.
And the “I” disappears slowly..
Hundreds of pages filled with “I’s”
Too many dots of assurance
Covering a towering me.
Now i just bow, kneel occasionally
My “I’s” still unavoidable
Yet a move beyond “me”.