Writings Poem by Je'free Y .

I never keep track of the number of poems
I have written to get to present places.
I wonder how much fire, how much desire
And yearning for healing have inspired me
After those good-byes and heartbreaks -
When you bid farewell for another town,
When frequency of your calls dropped down,
When your call never ever happened again,
Then I waited in vain for far too long,
Then I imagined jumping down the Empire State,
And you appear like a ghost of the past to tell me:
'What the hell was I thinking when I left?
Is it too late for you take me back? '

Ex-lovers have a skin twice as thick as their victims.
They are never into poetry for it is too lame for them.
While poets pour their hearts out to their craft,
Exes are online hooking up with Mr./Ms. Horndog.

Well, verses grow like vines. Words pile up in my head.
I can mesh some together and create a ballad,
Reserve a few lines for future experiences.
Dramatic, melodic, cathartic, such warm company,
Warm enough for cold wee hours of the morning -
Poems make life become more than about lovers.

Endless pages of rhymes, sheets of haiku -
The swinging of the pendulum is all I hear.
My voicemail is empty; my email, as well.
The ceiling seems farther by the hour;
But the poems and I do not have signs
Of divorcing each other.