I opened a book “The Year of No Mistakes” by one of my favorite poets Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz and found this remarkable poem:
More beautiful women have loved you,
more talented. Poems about you have
already been written by better hands.
I can’t help but cover up my bare skin.
I flee. I’m still not enough for your love.
My lips are attached to a nervous face.
My No is always quicker than my Yes.
I want to touch you so badly I don’t
know how to even reach out. I’ll never
know how to say it: how sunk I am
in this love for you, how salty,