The difference between us is simply this:

If they were to take all of you.
Distill down the essence of your smile
and the imaginative gears that whir
behind your eyes.
Add to it the bits of you scattered over the years-
your writing and art,
the stories of you that others
hold in their hearts,
and press it
into the pages of a book.

Binding you would form a
monstrous and unwieldy volume,
threatening the life of even the most
robust of coffee tables.
It would be called
“Anthology of THE Girl”

And if they did the same for me,
the book would be considerably
smaller,
and plain.
Titled: “poems to **** yourself to”