Ode to a Poem (Poem)

I give myself to you
I give it all,
My poem, I give to you, personified in verse,
I give to you, poem,
My anguish, my love, my pain, and my pleasure
It's all the same to you
It blurs together like paints on a canvas
I paint my life with color
I paint these pains and triumphs with the ease of a skilled artist
Where once I made the instrument sing
And the paint talk
I tell the words what to do now
I command them as best I can
I tell you all my secrets
I tell you about her and her
Only her, but then another one
Until you learn to suspect that I only love love
And what it does to me
And no one person.
Maybe this is true
And they're all the same
And I've never really loved.
But it feels real doesn't it?
You know that, poem,
Because you've felt it, too,
The pain and the joy
The love that feels real
The pleasures of it happening again as if for the first time
And the illusion that it wasn't like this before.
I lie to you, poem,
And say this is the one,
But you know me too well
And that this is but the latest
In a series of loves
In a row of lovers
And a dream of originality
That may not exist.
It seems real enough and maybe it is.
I do love poem and I love you, too
Let's be true to each other
And share our secrets like friends
Who give their love to each other because the world doesn't understand them
And only we two do.