Your face is a poem.
With eyes that dance to a meter,
and lips that speak in rhyme.
I sometimes understand you.
But mostly, I find you open to interpretation.
That is your secret,
and I am endlessly fascinated.
I know we’re in the middle of a world’s that’s gone and flipped itself over,
and I can’t make heads or tails of things beyond me.
So I’m sticking to this simple dream–
I just want someone to kiss hello,
and to blow kisses goodbye.
We are a tumble of breaths,
Each not knowing where one starts and one ends.
with your every inhale, my ribs are pulled in,
And in my every exhale it is your breath I smell on me,
We are so close, we share the same air.
I ‘ve dry-cleaned the gown that I’ll wear in that surprise party you said you’d throw me one day.
And I’ve packed my suitcase just in case we finally make it to that trip you’ve promised.
I’ve brought my boots out if you ever think of going on that hike.
Our list is getting longer, but not my patience.
I’m so ready for you to be ready.
Maybe we’ll share coffee again someday
in our favorite cafe.
And maybe we’ll hold hands, we’ll see.
Just the thought of it makes me giddy.
Maybe I’ll stare into your actual eyes
and not the screen.
Someday I’ll wake up
and know you’re not a dream.
It might soon, but maybes lie
But I still hope, don’t ask me why
Or when or how
But when this is through,
I will see you.
You didn’t read how our story ends
Even though it was your hand that wrote it.
Maybe you pictured yourself a hero
and I didn’t need saving.
Maybe you saw yourself kind
and I didn’t need kindness either.
But someday, when you figure out
how to love in earnest,
You’ll open up our book and read til the very end
And know that I never said it was all your fault.
The trouble with me is that I trouble with you.
Who knew of the trouble the two of us could brew?
I didn’t have a clue of what trouble could ensue
when I add a bit of me and you add a bit of you
Oh the tangles I undo when its trouble I pursue.
If I had met you
in our youth,
Oh the places
we would have roamed together
And how many changes of colors
and tastes and sights
we would have shared.
But still,
I am thankful to have met you
in my twilight
Where blurred lights make the lines
on my face softer
And your hands steady mine.
It was the same road,
But a different direction.
It was the same words,
But a different intention.
When I look back
I find myself in contention
If all that ever was
my mind’s own creation.
