in the soundtrack of my story,
there exists a lone percussionist...
and he plays to fit
the demands of passing moments.

•••

to the calm he plays steady.
in uncertainty he hastens.
he matches the ticks of seconds
when all is quiet,
and he thunders
to crescendoes and climaxes.

•••

in the symphony of my life
there exists a lone percussionist...
and he resides unseen in my chest.

.
crescent in the sky be my hammock

I watch with shut eyes
the twinkle trail of fairy lights

let my past be laid and lined in chalk

to usher the magic of following nights

.

.
I write of love and strength

like I know what they are

but I'm still like a child

looking up thinking satellites are stars

.

rough tongue caresses
one ***** licks the other

your breath smells like fish

If seeing his face still makes your heart skip a beat, no matter when or where you are...

If you get lost in her eyes and realize there's no where else you'd rather be...

If the sound of his voice relaxes and excites you at the same time, and you realize you could listen to him speak until the day comes when the sun no longer shines...

If the sound of her name brings a smile to your lips, and you know there's no sweeter combination of syllables on this earth...

If you find he's the first thing on your mind when you wake up...

If she's the last thing you think of as you fall asleep...

If he can make you laugh so hard you forget your troubles and just live in the moment for once...

If she can gift you with a sense of wonder and happiness much like the bliss and simplicity of childhood...

If you'd share the last slice of pizza or make a late night munchie run...

If the time comes when you realize there's no coming back from how they've changed you and there's no one else you'd rather spend your life with...

You've undeniably...
irrevocably...
unmistakably...
indubitably...
fallen in love.