Even just the name “Xavier” is fluid, different, dramatic.
“Xavier” evokes excitement,
exclamations of sexy exasperation,
But with all of that exhilaration, disappointment trails along.
Disappointment because I am not worthy of something so wonderful, someone so perfectly imperfect, someone whose very flaws are poetic.
Poems don’t have to rhyme; they’re more beautiful that way,
And he doesn’t rhyme either.
I’m better off with a Caleb, a Mark, an Andrew or a Josh.
A fragmented piece. Maybe a poem.