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.
Someday you’ll realize who pours the coffee when you yawn;
Or who always has a dry sleeve for you to cry on.
Who opens the door when you need a place to crash in;
Who cheers the loudest when you stand up to sing.
In time you will know this poem was for you;
And also this shirt, because I know you love blue.
But until them I am in this precarious state
I hold my heart by a string, awaiting its fate.
I deserve more than your kindness, but kindness will suffice.
When you do figure out where I stand, please be nice.
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.
I am a wound ball of string, but with your slightest touch,
I fall and unravel.
A single slip and I am back to untangling
the mess that you make of my heart.
