Warm Water

It’s not really poetry but
Its how you feel when you are famished
and fantasizing about succulent and savory meals
yet all that you can afford is what you have in the fridge
An apple and some ketchup.
It’s not really poetry but
Its how you feel when you are exhausted
and daydreaming about softly, quietly, pillowly snoozing
yet you’re mind is on the subway, midday in Manhattan
And those two energy drinks didn’t help much.
It’s not really poetry but
you are my oh well I guess
you are my this will have to do
the available substitute
for every wish that never came true
you are my its better than nothing
It’s not poetry but you’re here in the morning…