If You Were A Poem

If you were a poem,
I would take my time.
I would carefully think through all of the words,
I would search for meanings that were more illusive
and I would write them, not type them,
on paper for you.

If you were a poem,
I would read you aloud to a small crowd,
because you only deserve the most intimate setting,
and I would read the words slowly, carefully,
because I want everyone to know all the
adjectives in the world that can describe you.

If you were a poem,
I would publish you on the internet
because I would want the entire world to read
every line that describes the intricacies of your life,
what makes you human and what makes you alive,
and I would let every social media website
share your story,
because the world deserves to know
such a beautiful creature.

If you were a poem,
I would translate you into every language
so every person would want to read you.
I would make sure each language has
similar words to the ones I have written about you,
because I don’t want the world to lose a single letter
that was written about you.

If you were a poem,
I would let an artist draw
what they thought was an accurate representation of you.
I would let them etch out your words,
paint out your imagery,
and sculpt out your life,
because you deserve to be portrayed in every aspect of art.

If you were a poem,
I would carry you with me, all of the time,
because I wouldn’t want to forget a word that I have
placed from the ink of the pen onto the piece of the paper,
and I would carry it in the front pocket of my purse,
until the day I no longer carry a purse,
just in case someone wants to read about you,
and I will always have it handy, in that front pocket.

If you were a poem,
I would have the priest read the words
near my last breath,
because I want you to be the last thing that I hear
before I no longer have the chance to see you,
and they would bury me with you,
the words I penned about you,
forever with me,
until I see you again on the other side.