i’m not sure
what the statistical probability of me
getting into some terrible accident
that causes me to go deaf and blind would be,
and i’m not sure how to research into it.
so my hypothesis remains,
that it’s probably a very small percent.
maybe it’s bigger than i think it is,
i’m not sure.
i never claimed
to be good at numbers.
but in this possibly
very small or very big percentage
of this reality coming true,
i want to make sure that i have, in advance,
memorized every inch,
every crack,
every hidden part
of you.
i want to touch your hands for hours and remember every curve and dip of your fingerprints,
and i want to kiss your lips for days to ingrain in me their taste and the feeling of your breaths.
i want to lay in the crevice of your neck for weeks, to make sure i have studied your scent,
and i want to rub my fingers through your curls for months, so much so that i could recite this poem, even in the after-death.
i want to feel your cheek against mine for years, so that i am able to describe the warmth of it through nothing but colors and love,
and i hope that i can just spend my whole life with you, learning more everyday that not everything is meant to fall.
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 11:33 PM UTC
i’m not sure
what the statistical probability of me
getting into some terrible accident
that causes me to go deaf and blind would be,
and i’m not sure how to research into it.
so my hypothesis remains,
that it’s probably a very small percent.
maybe it’s bigger than i think it is,
i’m not sure.
i never claimed
to be good at numbers.
but in this possibly
very small or very big percentage
of this reality coming true,
i want to make sure that i have, in advance,
memorized every inch,
every crack,
every hidden part
of you.
i want to touch your hands for hours and remember every curve and dip of your fingerprints,
and i want to kiss your lips for days to ingrain in me their taste and the feeling of your breaths.
i want to lay in the crevice of your neck for weeks, to make sure i have studied your scent,
and i want to rub my fingers through your curls for months, so much so that i could recite this poem, even in the after-death.
i want to feel your cheek against mine for years, so that i am able to describe the warmth of it through nothing but colors and love,
and i hope that i can just spend my whole life with you, learning more everyday that not everything is meant to fall.
