The besieged poet

Would you dare to reconcile
would you reach out to me
hold me in your arms, your thighs
and thereby deprive the world
of these lines and rhymes

is my poetry so unimportant
that you would call me again
is it so plain you find it worthless
does it mean so little to you
that you would deny it to others

by replacing the longing with love
and writing with satisfaction
sleep in favor of sleeplessness
staring at the screen
which waits to be filled

But no, you are an art lover
cultured and sophisticated
you are an intellectual scholar
who can appreciate the science
so i assume you like my work
better in writing than bed, apparently

I can worry about other things
my nights will be sleepless
my days filled with emptiness
that is filled with meditation
on the science of what should be
rather than the poetry of what is