Always I am
waiting
waiting
waiting
for the right time
to tell you all the
words I have stored
behind my teeth
and in the pockets
of all my sweaters.
It's just that I'm so
sure the sun speaks
out of your mouth,
that you will be the
only person who will
swallow my sentences
immediately after I've
said them so they
don't have time to
float away into
outer space where
Pluto and all of my
other lost loves are
orbiting. My
greatest fear is that
you'll stop holding
me like my hands
are made of the
Milky Way and
instead like the
love I'm capable of
giving you is simply
measured with the
spoon I use to stir
my peppermint tea.
I have stumbled
tripped
tumbled
into the atmosphere
of your smile, been
dragged under by the
waves of your breath
on my neck in the
earliest hours of
the morning. I ask
only that you keep
loving my arms that
aren't strong, keep
watching me like I
taught the sky how
to make rain
(because I'll never
stop watching you
that way.)