Dear Poetry, part 2

Dear poetry,

I am sorry I have neglected you recently.
It was not intentional
see, there's this boy
rather, this man

He has stolen all my words
and my rhythym
so when you ask me to whisper sweet nothings to you
I find only nothings resting upon my lips
waiting to flutter to your eardrums and leave you less than satisfied

Dear poetry,

You know I am a perfectionist
and all I have wanted to write about
is the giant wave crashing earth shaking musical melodies that this man plays on my skin with his fingertips
I have not been unfaithful to you, I promise
but you should see his eyes
they encompass the entire ocean
with all of its beautiful tidal shifts
he is my tsunami bound by the body of a fighter
who somehow knows how to be gentle
he traces patterns from the pulse throbbing indentation on my neck
to my caged rib chest
down to the backs of my knees
and back up to the butterfly between my thighs
and makes my hearbeat go wild

he is hypnosis fixated on no particular goal
he is serenity threaded with breaths of chaos
he is an overdose of jazz music
you know,
something good to dance to
full of rich saxophones and bass drums that make you sway long after you've lost the energy to move

dear poetry,
he moves me.
I'm not saying that you don't
I'm saying that he has shown me how much can be said
when words are left for a later time

I am still faithful to you
but for now,
I have few things to say
that cannot be written into the silent parts of his skin

your faithful lover,
V rabbit

P.S.
you really should see his eyes
then you would understand how I am so captivated.