Fitting you in

I think in words,

syllables as building blocks,

a game of tetris until

the right pieces fit.

Phrases bounce around,

turning into stanzas,

til stanzas fit stanzas,

so a poem sits right here.

You are the random bolt,

the square in my round peg,

the lost instructions,

you are my monday morning.

You sit on the tip of my tongue,

waiting to dive into my throat,

so I can give you life through,

my voice that hides in the back,

I’m missing the lego piece,

that connects you to,

my inner realm that

flows out of this pen.

You are scary.

Knowing you can disrupt

with so much calm,

something so sacredly simple.