Sometimes
I look at the blues and purples and pinks
when the sun is setting
and I like to think of you under the warm light,
laughing and drawing circles on my thigh with your fingertips.
The image doesn’t always last
because I remember that you’re too far away
for me to even reach for your hand
and I guess it’s unrealistic of me to think
that I could ever touch a star
that shines even brighter than the sun
but you make me believe in things like that,
you make me think that I could hold out my hand
and watch the stars bounce against my fingertips.
Everything is beginning to look like you,
I’ve started drinking my coffee black
because it reminds me of your eyes,
I can’t stop thinking about
what your voice sounds like
when you’re half asleep
and still in the moment between dream and reality.
I can’t stop hearing your mumbled “I love you’s”
or your quiet laughter.
I was always told that ordinary people
do not experience extraordinary love,
but you are so extraordinarily beautiful
and you make me feel extraordinary.
I want to be your afternoon sunlight,
your midnight moon.
I’ve never been good at telling people I need them
but the world would be so lonely without you,
and I think I’d wait until the universe collapsed in on itself
if it meant I could hold your hand in mine
without worrying that it might slip away.