White Converse shoes,
Pants pulled up like
You came straight
From the 50s.
You were reading
The paper when
You got up to ask me
To borrow a chair.
After all, it was dark
Where you were sitting,
And it takes a healthy
Amount of natural light
To read the paper.
At least that's what you told me.
Of course I obliged because
It does make it easier
For me to write about you when
You're sitting right across
From me. Mr. Plaid Shirt with
A Pilot G-2 Gel Ballpoint Pen.
Maybe if you're lucky,
Your coffee won't be cold
By the time you read,
"Animal Cuisine, for Animals,"
Or, "This Sushi Waits for No One."
What does it say about me
That I would sit here
And describe you as you read?
I could interrupt you,
Asking you a few questions
To really get to know you.
I assume you're a kind person
Based on the laughter-lines
Surrounding your eyes;
Based on the way you smiled
At that young woman as
She walked by.
I wonder what it is that I will love the most. Maybe it’s the way you say a certain word, or that one defining feature; your one crooked tooth when the rest are straight, or the fact your eyes cross every time you cough after a draw. Maybe it’s because your mouth tastes like rice milk and your hands smell like lavender, maybe it’s the way you hold me and keep me still when the entire world is spinning. Maybe it’s because you sing all the songs you know keep me calm, or maybe it’s the way your laugh seems to roll around in your mouth and then hit everyone in the room like it’s the bowling ball and we’re the pins. I wonder what you have been through. I wonder what walls you have hit in your life, and which of those you battered through and which you sat and waiting for the bricks to crumble and fall. I wonder what you will think about when we sit in silence, is it about me? Is it about the ocean, or our dinner?
I wonder about a lot of things to do with you, but I do not wonder, nor doubt that I will be uncontrollably and unfaltering-ly in love with you.
I think too much about him,
I think too much about you
and these details:
the purity of your skin,
the blueness of his eyes,
the direction of your swirls,
the softness and redness of his lips.
Oh, such men to cherish
and such things to adore.
I can tell you about the day I met her.
I can't tell you the day of the week or even the date, but I can tell you details.
I can tell you that she was wearing a grey hoodie and pink converse.
I can tell you that she had the most amazing smile I've ever seen.
I can tell you that she had her hair down, but brushed behind her ear,
And I can tell you that her hair is a grey-brown colour.
I can tell you about the other day when we went out to the local woods. She was wearing all black.
But she was smiling, and I can tell you that she has the cutest blush ever that starts by her nose and covers her entire face.
I could tell you all about her.
I couldn't tell you what body spray she was wearing, but I can tell you that it smelt like spring, and comfort.
I can tell you that you could search the Amazon rainforest and not find something that smelt as nice.
I could tell you all that, it just wouldn't do her justice.
These feelings I have are new.
New in the sense of they're more intense
than they have ever been.
I thought I loved Mark.
I thought he loved me and would protect me.
But Mark was selfish.
He only cared about sex.
Everything he ever told me was a lie
just so he could get me in bed with him.
But, so it seems, I have found someone better.
"I'll never let anyone hurt you like that,
and I will never hurt you.
I love you so much, and it hurts to think
that someone would hurt you so horribly."
This someone better is genuine about his words.
These feelings I have are not new,
Never have I thought that I could belong to someone
in every way possible.
Never have I thought that someone could love me so
much that they would want the same thing.
Never have I thought about a future
where we could both be happy and help eachother.
Marriage is almost certainly a set thing for our future.
He talks about it more than I do.
Like Forrest had said,
"We go together like peas and carrots."
We know each other from the inside out.
I know how he likes his head rubbed.
I know that he likes it when I softly scratch his arm.
I know how his chest feels,
rising and falling softly with every breath,
heart beating at a steady pace.
He knows how I like my hair played with,
and how I like my stomach rubbed.
He has my heartbeat memorized,
and he knows that I absolutely love him.
He knows how cold I get, and how easily too.
He knows every little detail, as do I.
I love him, and he loves me.
And that is all that matters.
What a thing it is to claim a smile.
To grant command
to ranks of muscles ever-ready,
but rarely used,
to produce such radiance
that means I must turn away lest I be blinded.
Regardless of all other commitments
I lay claim to that smile of yours
if only unofficially
if only just for now.
Details are always painful
Whether they are justifications
from a cheated partner or the
long monotonous description of a
curriculum's historical event.
Details always hurts
Whether these are the innumerable
unfulfilled promises of a minister or the
revealed reality of a schadenfreude
in disguise of your friend.
Details are always excruciating
Whether these are the tormenting
statements of a rape victim or the
soul piercing words of the people
living in blighted areas on social media.
Details always left you sombre
Whether they are the elucidation of your
acquaintance's tragic demise or the
rendition of a symbolic line in
Details always give you cold shivers
Whether it is listening to a horror
story in a solitary hostel room or the
sour scolding of your parents
for screwing up your exams.
The predicament is that
Details mostly give us a food
for thought but ultimately we all
end up grieving on things and doing
nothing about them.
Next time you encounter any DETAIL
that left you with even a bit of
of bad emotion,not just get grief-stricken
do something about it,so that you
don't feel bad when you confront it again.
and the way that you laugh, tongue on teeth
and the way that your styled like this "I am not a poet"
and the way that I know you are.
The way that you confuse me day in, day out,
and the way that I don't mind.
The way that I have showed you pen to paper,
And the way I'm trying to perplex you with these words.