Whether I’ve waited too long,
or I’m coming on too strong
I feel the need to put my words
where they belong;
In the drum of your ear,
beating to the sound of this nondescript fear
of “have I said too much?”
or “too little?” --
of wondering when my feet
will reach the middle
ground, between overkill and not enough.
That just right feeling we’ve all built up
for one girl or another,
trading one choice for the other
and never being quite satisfied
with the path you’ve taken;
but every time I choose you
my heart is breaking.
The crackling sound that
my heart keeps making
is like the sound of
a burning wood fire on a cold winter night
where I stare into the flames
like I stare into your eyes,
and remember you staring back like
you were looking for something.
And what that something was
is beyond me
but I sure hoped
that it was there for you to find.
and I sure hoped
that you could read my mind,
because my nerves stopped
my lips from moving,
and I’m constantly in question
of what I might be doing.
Now we’ve had our share
of one night stands,
and I hoped they would progress
to maybe holding hands.
But what I’ve learned is that
you can’t make life rewind
and run backwards
from the finish line,
you can’t make time
turn counter-clockwise.
I know driving through life
there are no u-turn signs.
As much as I wanted
to start by saying “I like you”
and do those cute things
that new lovers do,
it was never the case,
and I just got used.
nothing more
than a kid
to keep you amused.
Newly two decades old,
we’re both still young,
even if you’ve reached
the year of twenty-one.
Your heart doesn’t rest
atop your sleeve,
it’s comfortably hidden
away from me.
but I only ask for
one small peak
to settle my inner child’s
curiosity.
When night falls, I don’t want
what you think I do
what I really want
is to get to know you.
I couldn’t care less
about getting in your pants,
although I wouldn’t say no
given the chance.
But again, I’m content
with just sitting near you.
Us, just staring up at
the midnight moon
as she whispers
sweet nothings
to make you swoon
until the morning light
has come too soon.
I want to remember
the map of your face,
to feel how it fits
where my hand is placed.
I want to remember
the placement of every tattoo
as if I was the artist that
had drawn it on you.
I want to remember
the feeling of
the parts in your lips
where rings once docked
like navy ships.
I want to take you dancing
to feel your hips,
and make your morning coffee
to hear you sip.
This may be nothing more
than a simple crush
but it may be love, too,
not to make things rush.
But I’m bad with words when
they’re flying from my mouth
like confused grey geese
heading north instead of south.
So this is me starting the dialogue
without feeling wary of getting it wrong
because if I am then I’ll move on,
I won't mourn the day that
I wake and you're gone.