park benches and arm stretches
hugs that feel like roses blooming
like footsies fooling
diehard chasers and fearless makers
high heels carving holes in the concrete floor
how is that possible?
holding hands on carved bridges made from men so long ago
touching each other’s shadows
behind telephone poles
dreaming mid-yawn
spinning in silk and satin spindled suits and dresses
red streaked eyes and tempered smiles and luxurious bodices
dancing on picnic looking tabletops
laughing our butts off
swinging from low hanging chandeliers
drinking from low budget wine glasses with koolaid since we’re minors
laying on each other’s chests and stroking each other’s hair fervently
trying to ***** dance in the sparkle of the sunlight
catching each other as we fall into trusting positions
pretending to be spies on top secret missions
grabbing my waist and falling onto the sparkly clean floor
becoming so mad yet never unsure
captivated by your lips and the way your skin twinkles a million different shades
and the way your voice calls my name in a billion languages,
some completely made up even
meticulously planning the way our shoes will leave marks in the dusty spots of the castle
sweating and eating brunch for dinner and not eating filet as an entree but as an appetizer
falling into your strong arms and losing control of what we are
seeing stars in the retinas of your eyes and mysteriously feeling dead-alive
like never before
nobody would have ever seen the manner in which you bat your eyelashes at me
and how the soft murmur of the breeze echoes across the coarse part of your cheek
and calls for me
safe and compact into a life that’s so magically intact
loving would never have been so tranquil if we had planned every single sought after moment
candidly slow dancing in the velvet summers day
being odd and obscure and strange in several colors and in multiple ways
touching the surface of your ocean wave body
sloshing so wonderfully
the rhythmic sound and all your capabilities
the rampant sweat clinging to your face, your throat,
looking at me
clowning around, tackling each other while grinning wildly
pillow fighting so hard the feathers exit and get caught on our wet tongues and shivering bodies,
and we collapse and watch hours and hours of tv while we sing karaoke from the 80s and pretend to be heartbroken like in the mvs
sitting on established thrones without the grueling jobs and committed work
losing sleep cause we stay up all night playing monopoly, but mostly it’s just you making fun of me cause i don’t participate i just grab my knees and admire the way you pick up the cards and still lose to me
and watch your rage fuel our fake arguments so we end up with full stomachs and happiness
watching theater from the highest balcony and grabbing my shaky hand and ridding of my anxiety
lovers spit, kissing cherry lips in the darkness of the abyss
kicking papers off of desk offices and messing around as if we are two tiny kids
having the kind of love that doesn’t get trapped beneath the sofa cushions that are crusty and ready to give away, but haven’t yet
the kind between gapped teeth, white as ivory, licking the dwindling flavor and savoring the last moments till it’s not sugary
taking life so seriously is absurd,
instead dance ballroom style on tabletops and try ***** dancing for once in your darned life
it ain’t gonna hurt
sooo when i was writing this, half of it got deleted because my storage is trash and decided to take it out on my notes app :’(
anyway, it was so so so so good, but half of it got deleted so it will never return. i went through all the stages of grief. right now, i am accepting it. i cried and sobbed until i fell asleep, it was honestly really sad and still is.
i’ll never get it back.
ok so basically i wrote this poem because i listened to Sebastian Yatra’s song of the same name and i am obsessed. the music video was adorable and i want that kind of love for God’s sake! like unfair!
i hope i find carefree love one day, i hope it all turns out ok. rip to the other half of this incredible poem. you will be missed.
4/8/22
