I have Scratched your name
into my Calendar
Your name sits on the lined of my diary
poised for consistent use
At what point did you become
so natural to me
So that when I said your name,
it tasted like nostalgia and hope
and the Cool Fire of our words
warms me to contentment
It wasn't until you spoke and
I smiled
That I knew I missed you when you
were gone
But how can I miss you
When you're only an hour away
Still
I'm regretting the wasted July Mornings
When my nerves swallowed up the sentiments that said
that I think of you sometime, even when you aren't around
It sounds frivolous to say that I'd hope for events
that would draw your lens near
But now I'm budgeting you into my time
and Just hope that it's not wasted
The effort it takes to write these sentiments down is
Nearly incomparable to that effort which must be taken
to Remind the heart on my Sleeve to stay put
and not seep into that vein that will Surely carry dreams across my body
The word that I could entitle
Perfect
And since that word is unattainable here
I'll only say all the others
You're that feeling right after a pull
And you feel yourself slip under the friendly drowse
You're that feeling when you feel a set of eyes on your
blushing cheeks
You're the laughter of
a clever retort
You're a Melody thats gives spirit to my word
You're that fire that burns with
a bravery that you cannot see
You're that ticking clock, there to remind me
that Time is Precious
and Soon I hate that circled square on the
Calendar
&
I pray that that circle does not act as a deadline
for when your heart can be
mine
Because I like the sweetness of our fresh beginnings
And I do hope I may call it a beginning
Instead of a short story.
I'm all over the clock,
Yearning for more firsts with you
But even still, hoping for a second or 12.
And some first that could count
in a way that didn't get chalked up to
Naive Sentiments
Meaning I want you too much
And My head is rushing
Hours into this Instant.
Fast Forwarding to our Next Kiss
Sending me on a Clockwise Whirlwind
to times that may not even exist
But I still hope and Gamble
for More hours to play
Procrastinating the Seconds into convincing us all
That It's Casual
It is not Casual, to me.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
I have Scratched your name
into my Calendar
Your name sits on the lined of my diary
poised for consistent use
At what point did you become
so natural to me
So that when I said your name,
it tasted like nostalgia and hope
and the Cool Fire of our words
warms me to contentment
It wasn't until you spoke and
I smiled
That I knew I missed you when you
were gone
But how can I miss you
When you're only an hour away
Still
I'm regretting the wasted July Mornings
When my nerves swallowed up the sentiments that said
that I think of you sometime, even when you aren't around
It sounds frivolous to say that I'd hope for events
that would draw your lens near
But now I'm budgeting you into my time
and Just hope that it's not wasted
The effort it takes to write these sentiments down is
Nearly incomparable to that effort which must be taken
to Remind the heart on my Sleeve to stay put
and not seep into that vein that will Surely carry dreams across my body
The word that I could entitle
Perfect
And since that word is unattainable here
I'll only say all the others
You're that feeling right after a pull
And you feel yourself slip under the friendly drowse
You're that feeling when you feel a set of eyes on your
blushing cheeks
You're the laughter of
a clever retort
You're a Melody thats gives spirit to my word
You're that fire that burns with
a bravery that you cannot see
You're that ticking clock, there to remind me
that Time is Precious
and Soon I hate that circled square on the
Calendar
&
I pray that that circle does not act as a deadline
for when your heart can be
mine
Because I like the sweetness of our fresh beginnings
And I do hope I may call it a beginning
Instead of a short story.
I'm all over the clock,
Yearning for more firsts with you
But even still, hoping for a second or 12.
And some first that could count
in a way that didn't get chalked up to
Naive Sentiments
Meaning I want you too much
And My head is rushing
Hours into this Instant.
Fast Forwarding to our Next Kiss
Sending me on a Clockwise Whirlwind
to times that may not even exist
But I still hope and Gamble
for More hours to play
Procrastinating the Seconds into convincing us all
That It's Casual
It is not Casual, to me.
