If I ever fall in love with you.

If I ever fall in love with you
know
you are every poem I’ve ever written
every corpse hanging in the closet
every weed breaking pavement
and every cloud of cigarette smoke.

You
are the heroin that betrayed me
the lie and every truth
I pulled to the surface.

Know
ever word that rhymed
and every word that refused to
was a brick in our cathedral
look dear
how our love is a religion.

And know
if I ever fall in love with you
you are every blank page I have yet to fill
you are every pen
full
low on ink
and empty.

There will be days
that I scribble your hollow body
on blank pages
only to find that you have
nothing left to give
and if I still love you then
then it means forever
for holding onto an inkless pen
is a love only poets know how to write about.

And if you are loved by a poet
know
you will always be gazed upon as a work of art
whether you are hollow or full
you are an undying metaphor
that will always make appearances
even long after the initial pain of falling
has ceased.

And you must consent to this now
or let me go
because I have yet to learn
or simply refuse
to keep this pain quiet.