Maybe the reason I thought your eyes were a different color
Was because they seemed so dark
So heavy with worry and sadness.
I didn't see the sun shining in your eyes,
Didn't realize the grass was gleaming,
Bursting like flowers in the summer time.
Maybe you just needed a little love to help them grow.
I love you like the sound of the ocean
Before I even heard it coming it ripped me off my feet and sent me smiling,
Tumbling in a wave and I was full of fear
And excitement all at the same time.
Sometimes we use another person to reflect into us the light we need to keep the darkness from swallowing us completely --
But that isn't love.
Love is what shows up at 3am because you didn't answer the phone and you sounded really sad
And i called 50 times and even though i said I didn't care what I meant was:
I care so much that I know if I let you have all I would be willing to give you I'll have nothing left for myself.
And even though you won me over and I gave you all I've ever had and still im searching for more ways to give to you love,
What I didnt count on was this:
Noise like static and a never-ending rush of squelching and alarm bells sounding,
Insistent on shredding my sanity and tearing the confidence from my core
But the warmth you carry with you invites itself into me
And makes me whole again.
There are 3 lights on my ceiling fan,
None of which do I turn on for a majority of the time I spend staring at it,
I dont mind the darkness anymore.
It isn't for the lumination that I find myself engrossed,
It's the constance, the momentum that I admire,
That sets my head spinning
my only job was to keep going.
My words swirl like sparklers in the night,
Thoughts appearing in a blaze of fire
Only to trail away as the cold closes in.
And what once dazzled like glitter in the air
Is encapsulated in only the memory of something burnt.
There's a lock of grass in my pocket and clusters of stars behind my ears.
The warmth in my heart remains kindled by the guiding moon,
While I drink the air given to me -
A gift I wish not to squander.
The music of the trees and the cleansing from the river
Are the reminders I wear around my neck
So that I may one day earn the grace to be here.