You'll Like This

You'll like this.            
Remember how you said              
it makes you happy when I get philosophical            
when I talk about writers and              
things that sound writerly?            
Well... I want to make you happy again            
one more time.            
 
Let me sit you up so you can see me better            
when I talk to you.     
I learned a lesson today            
from Hemingway, of all people.            
Remember how you said you never believed in love            
nor thought you'd ever felt it,            
and I told you that I can't help            
but love everything, how I even fall            
for the rhythm of my own heart            
the colors in clouds            
the smell of the ocean at high tide                      
the silhouettes of trees at dusk        
and with all of this love I embrace
why then
why not you?    
Why not just for this one day?        
Just complicate ourselves willingly  
recklessly like two senseless poets?               
But I have you here now        
and as things I'd planned went sideways    
I'm sorry for that part.       
     
What I was getting at before was Hemingway            
that dull brute of blunt words            
had his toughs, his hunters            
freedom fighters and fisherman              
dreaming through some strange games            
with random rules to test themselves            
and names to call the ways they play.            
This one's my game.    
      
They likely won't miss me at that poetry site            
but those fuckers will come looking for you.            
Well the name of the game isn't important            
love, not love            
believe or not.            
You call it.    
It can't be coaxed or forced    
you can only open yourself most intimately    
or even just try to become the poem..    
Either way we're about to play            
and all of the words will cease to matter            
sometime in the first few minutes            
after I've shot myself.