I ain’t write a lot of love poems, for the same reason I don’t dance or sing much. Indefinable angst. I do write a lot of poetry, of drastically varying quality for drastically varying reasons (drunk, angry, hungry, horny, sad, angry again). Truth is my brain works in poetry, which sounds like a big wank but I am very embarrassed about it and actually it’d be best if you forget that I wrote that down, edited it and went through complicated steps to post that on my website where there is lots of my poetry.
Anyway here is a heartfelt poem that made my wife cry at work:
I’ll be your towel
I’ll be your fortress
Your safety and relief
I’ll be the warmth
That fills your aching bones
When you sit down to relax
I’ll be your wise grandfather
And you will be
The twinkle in my eye
I’ll be your gossiping girlfriend
The worthy opponent
That makes your trial complete
I’ll be your dirty rag
For your worst tasks
For the daily mess
I’ll be the thin, worn blanket
That gets you to sleep
In the crisp before winter
I’ll be the biggest knife in the drawer
That you’d pick
If it ever came to it
I’ll be the wad of toilet paper
That you blow snot into
When you cry
And most of all
After the storm and the flood
I’ll be your towel
To dry you off
When the rain is gone
Skydekkerix 