You are simplicity,
a pair of jeans and a
black t-shirt.
Your eyes are the
color of slate slicked
with rain,
mine to hold in my
gaze, trying to find the
tiny brown spot you
say I never see.
You are long hikes in the
summer and car
rides in the winter,
hand in hand down old
dirt roads.
You are heavy metal
songs louder than the
beating of our
hearts late at night,
drowning out the
truths that
scream obscenities in
our ears.
You are uncertainty,
an awkward hand that
adjusts to
hold mine,
lanky fingers,
calloused and
agile beyond your
twenty years.
Your tongue lacks my
linguistic quickness,
but I'll never have your
gull or guts to
attempt the
impossible and
questionable moments you
live for.
I'll never see the
need to be care-free,
climb to your
heights, or throw
worries down the
street like the
pages of your
favorite book.