how many hours did I spend editing and editing this poem that never existed until now.
I have a sweat stained tiny paper in my pocket with the perpetual universal ecstasy of a new love
i want to be a fearless poet beyond exciting beyond desires of hip coolness edgy narratives
i should know better than attempts to edit and narrate a poem that doesn’t exist.
i lost hours of live now uncensored poets just because i was rearranging the details of a different poem
so i leave now onto other nows until the hot wet poem fragments in my pockets
maybe i’ll fold it into an envelope a return label.
(or miss hundreds of nows editing and editing
a love poem after just a shadow of a hot queer
underage looking princess who stole
this eternally editing heart