in retrospect, the banging in the room could
have been mistaken for an escalating argument,
or even something more passionate,
but it was my deafening heartbeat,
as loud as a car crash, over and over,
in my dreams, i hold the paintbrush
and i paint
your sunset eyes,
your sunrise smile,
dimples like valleys,
our worlds lie on this parallel plane where
our strings cross once and don't meet again

that must mean you're a muse
or a tragedy waiting to happen,
so it's losing the fear of falling
so it's falling in love
so it's understanding myself through you
so it's understanding you through the window
rather than staring at you through a mirror