words part IV

i'm not really an artist.
you made me realize things about myself
as we talked across plastic glasses of life.

i'm not really a poet.
i come, directions not included,
stumbling across my words.

i don't know. maybe it's not what i'm not.
maybe it's what i am.
and our lines crossed

like the kites in those lyrics that i like.
and i'm not sure which is stronger for you,
the wind or the pull.

i'm hovering over right v. wrong and
someone ate tonight's directions and left
a styrofoam leftover in my lap.