They say a poem cannot cry,
But I made her bleed a silent lie.
They say a poem cannot speak,
But I made her sing when I was weak.
They say a poem cannot see—
I gave her life, then let her flee.
They say a poem cannot feel,
Yet I taught her what verses won't kill.
I made her fall in love, I broke her heart;
I made her smile, like a fool in art.
For a poet can hear what others miss—
A voice, a calling, a rhyming kiss.
I showed her wounds that won't fade,
She walked with me, like a blazing blade.
I wept, but she shed the tears—
Like poetry, she lived through all my fears.