i wish i could
be neruda for a night
so maybe i could
write a litany
of what i would
do should you
forget me
i could say outright
that i'll cease
to remember you
long before any trace
of my memory
escapes you

if i were him
maybe i could
begin to write
the saddest lines
those that would
make you bleed
deep scarlet
blood trickling
each tiny drop
perfectly staining
my stark skin
he could pen
harshness, cruelty
and disguise them
as innocent musings
nobody would even
know the difference

if i were him
maybe i could
gather words
and scatter them
find the proper rhyme
that might make you weep
silent tears
each one a testament
to every little thing
you have lost
a reminder of all
that you have given up
all you are still
willing to let
slip from your grasp

if i could be
neruda just for
a few precious hours
maybe i could
firmly promise
that these are the
last pains i would
let you make me suffer
and these are the
last verses i would
ever write for you

but i am not him
my words are
empty, shallow
i could only attempt
to mimic what he
effortlessly creates
i could only
fervently hope
you might hear me
know what i mean
i could only
pretend to touch greatness
like i pretend
that i could
peek into your soul