i told you "good night, i love you".
yet
i am not sleeping.

i am listening to the stars sing a song

a note
for every time i have thought of your fair, blush-drunk skin and
sweet, tender soul
melting and mixing with mine at the brush of fabric and shoulders and loud laughter in a space too public.
but i don't care.
i don't think you do either.

it might take four shots of ***** to feel that way again.
but
i only need to see you smile
and i know next morning i'll have a lovestruck hangover
and be changed for the next week.

this is the reason why
we should never, ever get married.
unless
this is simply what no one ever told me about real, raw, love
that hits you like a train
the cargo is sugar
bleeding red roses
and now i don't have to buy twelve at the store for nineteen ninety-nine.
first autumn chill freezing my toes inside my shoes while i wait after knocking at your front door
(we're going to the nice restaurant downtown.)
waking up to a tornado warning at five AM and my first thought is if you're okay,
opening the kitchen windows to the smell of fresh rain and you're texting me pictures of the rainbow.

falling asleep at long last

and at long last dreaming of you.


the stars are singing a song
and in my dream, curled up close next to you

i am singing too.