I Didn’t Write This - Sri Nath Kurup

Hey! My name is Sri Nath Kurup, and I am a rising Sophomore from Spring Valley, New York, with a major in Political Science, intended concentration in Criminal Law, and intended minor in Philosophy and Law. I am a huge fan of storytelling, and from poetry to creative writing, to Dungeons & Dragons, you can catch me writing and narrating. On campus, I’m a member of Phenomenal Voices, Mock Trial, and of course ARCH! In my free time, I’m reading where it’s sunny under a pretty little tree, or chatting with friends while watching a show. I am inspired to write by the belief that every story holds a world of experience. By sharing them we move these worlds into reality, reflecting the parallels of our own lives and helping people who need to see themselves through such an auspice, not a mirror.

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I wanted to write a poem about you,

or someone, or something

Something pretty

I wanted to idolize an idea or allude to an aspect and just talk about it for like 7 minutes as if I

had nothing better to do.

I wanted to probably take someone trashy and worship the ground they walk on or maybe speak

on a Saint and sanctify their state but

I don’t want to write poetry anymore

Don’t want to use language and literature to languish over ideas and aspects and point out the

beauty of the world to anyone

Actually, I want to be a poem

I want you to write something

And push your pen and mold your mind to dive headfirst into metaphors and idioms

And change my worldview

So that I can finally thank you

I want, to just for once, be the fucking muse

It’s not like you can’t recognize my divinity

The thing is this shit is boyfriend material

And you act like you can sew

But I know

You couldn’t piece yourself together

In time for us to match fabrics

Why people that just got to knowing me

Know me

But you don’t know shit

As far as you can throw me

I bring down celestial bodies and

Put stardust in ink

Break out into song

And hand out my soul

But I can’t get a Valentine’s Day Gift

Maybe after Friday

I wish someone would refer to me

With talk of stars and moonlight

Of dreams and reveries

And the handsomest parts of me

But honestly

You don’t even need to like me

Just write me

Because I don’t even need to love you

To tear myself in two

Just to give a part of me

A piece of my mind

For your peace of mind

I’ll give the shirt off my back even if it was husband material

Which now that I check the tag it probably is

To someone I’m not interested in

And someone who needs their spirits lifted

But I can’t even ask someone to lift their pen?

But you’re not smart enough to do it anyway

Because you don’t act dumb so much as you are

And that’s not your fault because it’s honestly just my poor choices and low standards

That keeps me coming back to kisses and compliments and coddling and everything else your

tongue can do

Because you and I both know that I’m worth more and also you’re not looking for that,

and also neither am I because if you asked, I’d say no anyway

I want to say I love you just a little too quickly that it scares you

so that you feel scared to commit because I’m trying to keep my chances open

But I’d rather villainize your inability to communicate

Than advocate

For myself and my feelings which aren’t that nice and only want you for sex but want you to be

someone else

I don’t want to grow with you I want to fix you and make you better and I know I can’t

so it’s better to have a project to work on than let the Devil use my idle hands

But maybe it’s the Devil that’s in me

Keeping me from being free

And just admitting that I want you but not enough, and I make myself think I want you more

than that because wouldn’t that be cute?

So maybe I don’t have the Divinity to be a muse, but if I’m the Devil I guess I still need an

advocate.

So maybe when I do my kindness and love too easily it’s me trying not to be him too.

But since no one else will step up, and it won’t be you

I guess

I’ll just write a poem about it