UNTITLED

I look at you
as if you belong
to Shakespeare' s sonnets
and Picasso' s painting
hanging on the walls of Louvre.

You look at me
like a nimbus cloud
wearing nothing but
gray and poems that
never rhymes.

And that's the thing,
you are sonnets and
paintings and everything
entirely wonderful.

And I'm that metaphor you
ALMOST loved
but never.
A poem that ALMOST rhymed
but never.