(Written to be spoken to babe-y)
When it comes to putting what you are
into words
do you trust yourself?
I understand there are many ways for another to mistake their symbols
for your sound
I've been wrong about more things than I care to count
and I still try to count on all the things up in the air that I haven't nailed down
but my love is so unreal it's getting kind of hard to figure all this unreality out.
Harder than stilling shaky hands from all my mental pacin around
and impossible as that one poem I read to you aloud.
You know the one
about how heaven and hell
are also just trying to figure each other out.
I can imagine the view
from up there and believe me
I know my sleeves shouldn't be so ******* filthy
because from this distance and from what I wear, some may confuse
my heart for the muck
all the love I've tasted with a pinched nose trying to stem disgust
I could never wash any of it away
but
I should remember
I do remember and recall much
that has made me into someone I love.
Born of dirt and trying to be enough.
Just two in the running tally,
of my error.
There is no volume control for my daydreams
and there are no knobs for this kind of radio
so when living poetry around the clock
you either you dont like the song
or your driving foot gets a little heavy and the windows come down.
Faster, faster coming to me faster
across lines that blur into the trees
that blur into the blues.
My favorite song,
a kindred color that without
I wouldn't be able to see you
Dancing on the edge of my vision
blowing bubbles in a see through room
I've made out of the words beauty and grace
glued together with tiny memories of your face.
I remember.
One eye staring from over a pillow full of a moment we'd rather stay awake for.
A tangle of your hair bolting across your cheek I liken to drinking black coffee
and those electric lips owning the words that almost drown
in the wake of your thunder
but I'm listening
and oh god I hear you.
Sounding down my spine with lighting striking from your mouth into mine.
Under a storm of blankets and mixed limbs that become the eye
A perfect stillness
a weightlessness
where there's not enough gravity to go around
for all my weatherfall still there
rain snow and shine stuck hanging mid-air
you are a timeless weather woman
with no need for percentages
because you give me
what I've always known to be real
that the other forecasts
predicted only to exist in a halo
eternities chance approaching zero
the circle that's but a fraction of an instance colored in you totally
smothering me slowly in a symphony sparing no noise
impossible to be wrong about
the correct answer
nobody ever told me to jot down
and baby I've been tested
I graduated from broken records
and the bad side of town
from black sheep flocking to
darkness
with clothes shaven from the light
Top of my class with a degree in acceptance
at a university where we take left and use it to make right.
My friend, these are some heavy credentials
so I hope you understand the weight
behind my certainty in your footfall.
I'm some authority on mistakes and heartbreak
so treat me like a scholar
or a weatherman with forecasts known to account for everything and the decimal.
A dotted i
Hear me place the you in me down to a point
the one I'm making
with all I've ever been wrong about
beckoning us
but never doubt.