How am I expected to not imagine you,
sleeves to the elbows, tensed hand
on a gear stick—
after a hair cut, batting your lashes,
bashful, slanted smile creeping
over your face? How could you?
When my chest contains this balloon
that is constantly inflating
at every gentle wind chime
mention of your name,
elated, I can't keep a calendar.
If I did! I would just be ticking off the days
until you were here again.
I can't begin to wonder what would happen if you'd found another girl,
if someone else realised what a catch you are,
if another heart was swelling every time you walked into a room,
or was silenced just by the sight of you.
Come back to me and hold me like you never meant to go,
I want to feel tiny and yet still invincible.