I have Scratched your name
into my Calendar

Your name sits on the lined of my diary
poised for consistent use

At what point did you become
so natural to me

So that when I said your name,
it tasted like nostalgia and hope

and the Cool Fire of our words
warms me to contentment

It wasn't until you spoke and
I smiled

That I knew I missed you when you
were gone

But how can I miss you
When you're only an hour away

Still
I'm regretting the wasted July Mornings

When my nerves swallowed up the sentiments that said
that I think of you sometime, even when you aren't around

It sounds frivolous to say that I'd hope for events
that would draw your lens near

But now I'm budgeting you into my time
and Just hope that it's not wasted

The effort it takes to write these sentiments down is
Nearly incomparable to that effort which must be taken

to Remind the heart on my Sleeve to stay put
and not seep into that vein that will Surely carry dreams across my body

The word that I could entitle
Perfect

And since that word is unattainable here

I'll only say all the others  

You're that feeling right after a pull
And you feel yourself slip under the friendly drowse

You're that feeling when you feel a set of eyes on your
blushing cheeks

You're the laughter of
a clever retort

You're a Melody thats gives spirit to my word

You're that fire that burns with
a bravery that you cannot see

You're that ticking clock, there to remind me
that Time is Precious

and Soon I hate that circled square on the
Calendar
&
I pray that that circle does not act as a deadline
for when your heart can be
mine

Because I like the sweetness of our fresh beginnings
And I do hope I may call it a beginning

Instead of a short story.

I'm all over the clock,
Yearning for more firsts with you

But even still, hoping for a second or 12.

And some first that could count
in a way that didn't get chalked up to

Naive Sentiments

Meaning I want you too much
And My head is rushing

Hours into this Instant.

Fast Forwarding to our Next Kiss

Sending me on a Clockwise Whirlwind
to times that may not even exist

But I still hope and Gamble
for More hours to play

Procrastinating the Seconds into convincing us all

That It's Casual

It is not Casual, to me.