How does poetry help you?

"How does poetry help you?" she asked
"I do not know" he answered
"Why?" she asked

He looked at her, and said:

Because poetry lifts me
so high
that the clouds suffocate me
and I die into little pieces of sunlight
enough to pass through the gleam of your eye
or be the wind of your sigh

Poetry shakes my bones
that my soul drops
down into the deepest earth,
waiting for you to wake me from the grave
with one kiss of resurrection

Poetry does not help me
Poetry simply kills

Because poetry is nothing but a beautiful murder
that I watch my body screaming "I love you"
while oozing with the blood of dreams,
dripping poems
on the skin of your soul.