i wanted to write you a poem
one all fluttery and silent
as it tickled on your tongue
breathing your breath
but my words are tumbled and tripped
slipped and fallen into jagged pieces
just tiny fragments of thoughts
none as bright as the memory of you
i release them into muse’s night
entrusting lonely moon to ensnare them
spin them into silver silken web
to be laid across your sleeping brow
so that on the morrow’s wakening
your tongue is tickled silent
by the quiet memory of me