I am drinking
alone on a night where the weatherman
has promised warmth
but has delivered cold, harsh wind.
I wonder where you are
and if you are wondering where I am.
Sometimes
my hands become knives
which rip out my heart;
so as to throw it at people with soft words
and beautiful smiles.
I sit here for nights on end
feeling you in every sound
of Explosions in the Sky’s songs
and trying to turn you in to poetry
I cannot find the words for.
Your voice is the song I love the most,
filling me so completely with its tender tone.
I long for rainy nights
spent inside the shelter of the arms
which held me so tightly;
yet I was not afraid of breaking.

*It is strange how I give these words to others
when they are only really meant
for you.