For Valentine's Day

This poem is for you but you are not a poem.
Yes, you are beautiful, but not in the way
a poem is beautiful. You are the beauty of many
poems but not the poems’ beauty. Yours
is the beginning. You are the first line written,
and the first line erased. You are the eraser
crumbs on the floor and the ghost of graphite
in the fibers. You are in the poet’s mind
and your apparition moves his hand to write,
to erase, to give up, and begin again.
You are the beauty in the poem about weeds.
Yours was the line that became the weeds.
You are the turn in the poem where the poet
stopped writing about you. You are why
the weeds are beautiful. Beauty is why
the poet took you out of his poem. He loves
twice. He ends the poem and needs to see you.