I can’t marry a poet



When he falls asleep.

To the rhythms of his words.

Instead of my steady rhythmic breathing.

When he cries.

His tears are inked on paper.

Sharing an intimate part of him.

I only read to know.


I can’t marry a poet.

My beauty only exists if projected on paper.

When he looks into my eyes.

He does not see me.

Instead he is inspired to write.

Never to ask.


I can’t marry a poet.

His sole duty is to create the world in words.

I will be his art.

Until he proceeds to the next poem.

Like many on the shelves.

I will find solace in a strangers heart.

But never his…


I can’t marry a poet.

Because everything he ever felt.

Is pasted on paper.

I want to be tattooed on his heart.

I can’t marry a poet.


PDBY publishes poetry submitted by University of Pretoria students. Submissions can be sent to editor@pdby.co.za. All submissions can be read at pdby.co.za.

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