The Poem Tonight

Pretty lowly you think of your unkempt wisps of hair, your not-so-delicate feet and your bony fingers
Fusion of all of which depicts how you’re made of this earthy soil and fire

But if I were an artist and you my intended classic,
I’d smear my brush with the azure of the skies and paint a poem
The one
I couldn’t not listen

The one
I couldn’t unlove