in ten days,
i'll meet you there
on the thoroughfare,
and it will not be the last time.

the streets of my home state
will become yours in a moment,
and we will share it together,
and it will not be the last time.

we'll go to the theater
where one of my heroes
once played me your favorite song,
and we'll take turns leaning on each other's shoulders
as the film goes on,
and it will not be the last time.

i'll buy you little drinks
that you'll make me take sips of,
and we'll trade bites of food at restaurants
that i've been telling you
that you "HAVE to go to" for years,
and it will not be the last time.

we'll get to finally live out
all the plans we've been dreaming up
since you bought your ticket here,
like wandering down the street
with the charming little shops
and blowing all our money
on innocent little trinkets,
and it will not be the last time.

and at the end of our third day,
i'll refuse to let you escape my arms.
i'll take in the scent of your perfume one last time
as your dad reminds us that
your flight is boarding soon
and my mother begins to hold me back.

you'll board your plane
and shoot off back towards san francisco,
and as much as i despise it
and wish it wasn't so,
it will not be the last time.

and i'll have to learn to live with you
from 1,919 miles away
once more.

the future is dim,
but regardless alight.
in ten days,
we'll find ourselves at the entrance of the tunnel again,
but there will be brightness somewhere,
several months down the road.
we will find it.

we will be okay,
and i'll see you on the 8th,
and then the 9th and the 10th,
and it will not be the last time.

every morning,
i wake with the light
of the sun in my eyes.

it’s a gentle yet sudden wake-up call,
as if the universe is
softly knocking on my window,
politely asking for entry
and barging into my bedroom
before i can allow any reply of admittance.
the newly opened door
invites the day ahead of me
to come breezing in,
responsibilities i had disregarded
before i drifted off hours prior
now hanging over me
like an overworking, demanding stormcloud.

i turn to my left and think of you,
still silent in your sleep
as the morning begins to begin out west.
the flowers atop your dresser
reach out to you,
admiring your beauty just as i am
from two thousand miles southeast.
i hope you’re dreaming of something peaceful.
i hope nothing ever wakes you before you’re ready.

i want nothing more than to be with you in this moment,
staining the blankets in your room with my scent
with every second i’m allotted.
or, i wish you were wrapped up with me in mine,
so that after you leave,
i can look for the similar impressions you’ve made
to preserve the memory of being with you
as perfectly as i can.

“a few more years,” you always say.
i’ve been counting down those seconds
since the moment you asked me to be yours.
saying yes to you was
the easiest decision i’ve made.
beginning to love you
a decade before i can give you a ring
and knowing it’s impossible
to flip the table where the waiting game is played
is the most difficult feeling i’ll ever know.

someday,
i’ll wake to the sounds
of you shifting next to me.
my eyes will open,
and yours will inevitably meet them
as you turn to face me.
our cat will jump up onto our bed,
and as snow falls outside
and the subway zips underneath us
below the earth we’ve conquered,
you’ll show me that same smile
that i pledged myself to
all those years ago.

in other words,
i’ll wake with the light
of the sun in my eyes.

and in its warmth,
i’ll find enough to bask in
to last me a lifetime.

well,
i'm not totally sure what to say.

but regardless of whether or not
i can get a hold of my words
and shove them into my mouth
so i stop making a fool of myself,

we find ourselves here
at this fork in the road.

i'm not much of a driver
nor a great decision maker.

but as we're making our bright red,
three second stop,
your hand finds my shoulder as if it was designed for it.
the magnets click into place
as the turn signal blinks at the touch of my hand,
and i follow it down the path
i promised us both that i would take.

it's an ordinary thing,
the road we've found ourselves on.
and yet,
i've never driven through snow on a beach before.
i can't seem to get myself used to the weather.

i take in the surroundings
and remind myself to breathe
as your grip on my shoulder loosens.

i feel as though we're doomed,
seeing visions of our car being driven off the cliff
that i swear i keep seeing
in the rear view mirror.

i brace myself for the impact,
the crash,
the fire.

but instead,
you roll the window down
and poke your head outside,
taking in the light wind
as we continue cruising.

the sun shines on your face
as if it knows
you are made of its light.
it opens its arms
to welcome you home,
and you smile and laugh
and tell me to turn the radio up.

so as we speed down the blacktop,
we let the world hear our songs.
and yet, they remain ours and ours alone.

the moment is ours
and ours alone.

we are ours
and ours alone.

and i am yours.
i am terrified of what lies ahead,
but i am yours.

and your body next to me
in the passenger seat
is all i need
to keep me on the right track.