court poet

i'm writing poems in the corners
where you lost your keys
where your coat stays hanging
and the borders blur
between reality and fiction
the knowing and the sure

you're holding me hostage
chained up in my tower
away from the troubles of the world
closer to the ones you call your own
asking me to watch and wait
to understand your wordless taint

this writing desk is all scratched up
some antique from long ago
maybe salvaged from a pirate ship
or the side of the road;
once told stories of love-lorn lust
and how to make a prince from a toad

and so i sit and wait and watch
for the love that we call ours
seeing reflected back the perfect match
for you, i grew only flowers

and as the clock ticks ever-down
for the tears shed over time
will you be mine?
this time
will you be mine?

you don't need to impress me
you just need to stay right here

you can be silent
chatty, broken
just let me hold your heart
and bear your token