You are the dab of butter melting
in my morning grits. The incessant flicker
from the candles glowing in my room.
You’re in that glass, the golden dancer
of bubbles tingling my nose and mouth.
As I approach that stop sign,
you’ll be that blinding bus,
at each street corner,
stealing my time even years after graduation.
Remembering as I do, you.
The highlighter that lit up my life.
So bold, and so brilliant.
Forget the other paragraphs,
yours were the only words that mattered.
It wasn’t until early on a Tuesday
the daily shift to morning from night.
Allowing a bright sun to greet us
as the moon planned its escape.
There you were, a stranger in my bed
Like a yolk surprise, cracked before my eyes,
I finally saw your true colors
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
You are the dab of butter melting
in my morning grits. The incessant flicker
from the candles glowing in my room.
You’re in that glass, the golden dancer
of bubbles tingling my nose and mouth.
As I approach that stop sign,
you’ll be that blinding bus,
at each street corner,
stealing my time even years after graduation.
Remembering as I do, you.
The highlighter that lit up my life.
So bold, and so brilliant.
Forget the other paragraphs,
yours were the only words that mattered.
It wasn’t until early on a Tuesday
the daily shift to morning from night.
Allowing a bright sun to greet us
as the moon planned its escape.
There you were, a stranger in my bed
Like a yolk surprise, cracked before my eyes,
I finally saw your true colors
