I can't quite pinpoint it.
it's like a glow,
But also a dark spot.
There is something-buried-so beneath you---
My shovel broke.
I got to see you for a split second,
But the rain came and washed you away.
us away.
When the sun finally arose from it's nap:
There was a flower.
A daisy or a rose,
It doesn't make a difference:::
But something bloomed,
And I'm honestly glad it did.

Writing about you
Flows out of my pen like breath
Need an ink refill

So.
Let's start with a beginning.

One look changed everything.
You had never looked at me that way before:
and then you did-
and everything changed.
A part of me wished that you hadn't,
but most of me is glad that you did.
I never thought I could fall for someone,
like you.
Oh.
Speaking of you::
I like you.
I.
Like.
You.
But it's not so simple.
It was so unexpected,
but so planned.
Like the road signs had been pointing me there all along,
but I finally decided to follow them on the right direction.
So many no's-I'm order to get your yes.
The hope that you give me is unreal.
So pinch me.
And kiss me.
So I can feel the sparks ignite,
and fly between the wavelength of our lips.

I might like you
This is an option.
A rock was thrown:
Now there are ripples in the water.
For sure, you are off limits,
But hey::so am I-
Should the rock have stayed in my hand?
This is silly.
I'm writing a poem about what should never been, but somehow:
is.
I might like you.
I might like the way it's so wrong.
I might like the way you looked at me,
And the way you played with my hair.
The way you made me feel safe,
And I knew nothing could hurt me.
We sit on your balcony, and throw a ball,
Discussing our options.
We don't tell.
We do tell.
The only thing I can tell is that I want to be with you.
I throw the ball back.
You catch it.
I might like you.
This is an option.
An opportunity.
So take it.

Immersed in an alternate world
Doesn't improve the one you are in.
Yes you may be:
Numbed
Contained
But when the last yellowed page is turned:
You are still trapped.
Trapped in reality.
The reality where the air is crisp but not new.
The reality where the people are real but not true.
The reality where you are lonley.
And the smallest glimmer of hope just turns into the echoes of "maybe another time"
But those pages.
It made it seem like.
Almost like it was real.
My own personal reality.

It's just tough.
Feeling the promise of something.
Knowing you are in the right place
At the right time
With the right person.
You feel as if all of the mistakes, bumps and roadblocks were strategically placed so they could lead me;
To you.
Fate, some of them call it.
You are not physically attracted.
You are drawn.
You just want to know them.
Everything about them.
And you want to be a part of their history.
Their future.
You know this is right.
It's the only thing you've ever known for sure::
And then it goes.
Evaporates.
Like it was never there in the first place.
You want to know if it was real; that it wasnt all just in your head.
But some things are out of your control.
You've tried everything to keep in contact.
But they have left.
Over five hundred and twenty seven miles away.
Way over that.
And although your heart is less than 7 inches away on the map key,
He has stolen it and taken it with him:
Over Five hundred and twenty seven miles away.
And there is no knowing when you will get it back.

Full of wonder and obsessive hope,
I wait for your return.
What was given to me is now hiding.
Close but far in the realms of electronic buzzes and cool metal.
I throw my purse away in the hope that if I drop it, you will pick it up, and carry me.
The words of strangers reassure me, and make me look for the wavelength of blue light blazing from the screen.
Yet you have not responded and my eyes fill with wet, soggy tears.
It sounds absurd, trust me: I know.
But I also know what it's like to feel your energy,
The warmth on your cheek and the signs floating around us.
I miss you.
I miss your glow.