i write a thousand poems a day,
in my mind - the safest of places.
its a place i know, you'll never go,
and see, and make angry faces.

such disappointment you harbor,
whenever i share my heart.
how can you be, a little ticked at me,
when i don't even know my part?

i can't read minds, i can't read you,
i can't read the fairy-tale ending.
nothing you show, you say "i don't know,"
and quietly - heartbreak your sending.

before you sigh, and roll your eyes,
just like i'm sure you always do,
i want you to know one tiny thing:
this poem is not for you.