i found a poem in one of my old books, a love poem, that i did not write. nor do i know who wrote it. i only know that it was written on a page from one of my old notebooks, and the book was bought while i was living in my apartment in WA, so i assume that was where it was written. who was it for? i don't know that either. i don't recognize the handwriting. i had people living with me or over all the time then, occasionally leaving their mental droppings in my poetry notebooks or random scrap papers, so it's really hard to tell. but geez it's intriguing. whoever wrote it was either drunk or completely smitten with someone or both. i have more than a few drunken infatuation poems that i myself have written over the years. but i know 200% that i did not write this one, because...well, i just don't write like that.
i just rediscovered the near-empty journal that dani gave to me before i left WA, with her "love poem for gwyn" on the first few pages. gwyn was one of my nicknames, the poem is for me, and it makes me a little teary because it's so sweet. i feel like i should start carrying this notebook around, now is the time to start filling it up with poems. i feel like i need to live up to her words for me. which feels impossible now, but i think i'll at least try. the journal's got little random quotes on each page, like, "let's ignore our mothers' well-meant advice," and, "she refused to let common sense cloud her judgement." i like that.