I Don't Write Poems

I don't write poems,

I usually awaken in the middle of

the scuffle.

Tangled limbs,

ruffled hair of

raging whims (that)

beg to declare

of your glare

the exact angle,

of your heart,

the distinct pace.

And in the middle

I am shaken,

I'm awakened,

filled to the brim, 

perhaps mistaken,

the fact is I am bursting

at the seams.

And in this rupture

they write

me.