I cannot write poetry when you stand and watch me,
I’m perfectly at home with a poem, but your stare floods me like the sea.
As if I were an awkward inventor, working focused and alone,
And you are sticky fingers on the window, I forget everything I’ve ever known.
I know it was my choice, to bring my notebook to this crowed room,
I will grow accustomed in time, at least that’s what I assume.
That I will move freely with out the 3, 4 view count holding me down,
One day I’ll forget you’re there, I’ll remember to swim; forget to drown.
Follow me on my poetic journey of writing one Poem Every Day!