I am a fool,
Waiting for your return
Every time you leave.
I pretend to ignore you.
Sitting here patiently waiting
For you to come back.
The things said that aren't meant.
The way you turn your back,
The last word before storming out the door.
I am a fool.
Leaving the door unlocked.
Waiting for your return.
I should be happy with pretending.
The breath of fresh air that soon misses your face.
I'll be a fool
I'll be a fool to lock the door.
I'll be a fool to call knowing you'd press ignore.
The things said that aren't meant.
The anticipation that waits for that door to open.
Nowhere to go.
I am a fool, standing by the door.
I've run out of things to do.
Waiting on you to come back.
I'll be a fool to ignore what's in plain sight.
I'll be a fool

Asking a question does more than fill open space.
It expresses curiosity.
Devolving into things not easily expressed.
Given our availability.
It expresses a deeper need for connection.
Whether we are open to what we desire most.
Closed off to preference.
 The right time of day or night we can de-clutter.
Taking in what we give out.
Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom.
Or merely because your there.
It expresses a thought that requires action.
That I've thought of you.
That there is a desire laid bare.
An anticipation that builds until the next time
I am able to hear your voice.
For the more serious moments require a deeper tone.
An ear that senses deeper need.
Responding to this deep need of connection.
A need of care.
A need of longing.
To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility.
But in the openness of being

When you hold me.
Hold me like you'll never let go.
Of all the uncertainty in the universe.
I ask that this isn't one of those things.
To melt into your warmth.
If nothing else is certain you've made a difference
in my life.
With a hug so tender.
I've never been so sure of anything.
Your skin pressed against mine.
Our eyes closed tight.
I dare not open them.
Ruining a perfect moment.
When you are in my arms theres no such thing as distance.
Time seems to walk around us.
Without so much as a single word,
Nowhere in particular to be.
These moments like stars, shooting before our eyes.
Accumulating in the pool of our eyes.
Unable to describe the feeling.
You in my arms.
On of the many things I love about you

At the end of the day I can't think of a better place.
A solemn moment.
The clutter of all my favorite things.
I lay uneducated, amassed in comfort.
In lieu of scented furniture.
She's with me where ever I go.

A populous of
Things which I notice, not being home in a while.
Conscious to where I lay my head.
A notion only the homeless truly understand.

A nostalgia of born necessity.
I am ignorant.
Realizing only now.
I needed not wait to feel,
The clutter of all my favorite things.

In the crease of her fingers
Is where she held me.
A history of thought,
Filtered.
Flaked off at the end.
It was her fingers I felt most comfortable.
That I could truly do anything.
Stuck between her middle and pointer finger.
Held high, upright.
Unprecedented in eclipse.
She'd press me to her lips.
Resuscitated.
Flaked at the tip.
Scatter ash
Where I felt most alive.
Nestled in the bend of her fingers.
My building without escape.
She'd set fire to my head.
& like a mad man I'd lay still.
This smoke, a place I wanted to be.
Our bad habit persisting
Day in and day out.
The only fact perhaps we truly have.
I'd unravel in loss of responsibility,
The nook of her fingers,
A universal sense of comfort.
Withered down.
Tossed to the wind.
Our history made short,
Recognizing that we were doomed from the start.
Smoking in front of the no smoking sign,
A habit we can't put down

Maybe tomorrow
I'll admit that I was joking.
Comparatively walking forward.
Pretending I saw what I couldn't.
The rustling of leaves,
Allocation to how far the fall.
The optimism of smiles.
After all, I've know this whole time.
When & where.
Deliberately stealing glances.
The second, third, forth
Consciously known that you'd find me sooner or later.
My role through the renewal of perspective.
Maybe tomorrow you'll forget &
I'll joking walk up to you.
Smile and say "Tag, your it!"
Knowing that you've been it this whole time.
The rustle of leaves growing louder.
Having known that I revealed myself without a word

Her heart is an apartment.
A building I know well.
Well lit, comfortably nestled in the center of her chest.
Free from rent.
The trouble of pink slips.
Delinquent notices of insecurity.
Broken promises.
Each of our memories kept safe, behind each & every door.
A winding case of stairs.
With us the occupants of every  floor.
Tiny peep holes with welcome mats beneath the door.
It's times like this when I think how big the world really is.
The countless number of steps taken.
Helping each other unpack our bags.
On the outside of each sliding door is a patio.
The stars never seemed so close.
Long uninterrupted stares.
Peering back and forth.
Our belongings all lined up.
A dresser that holds every piece of clothing.
My arms, legs.
All slid into the thought of you.
Her heart is a apartment.
A building I know well.
She loved old things.
Her heart sterdy, each piece of mail addressed with a kiss.
The only knock heard, goes without embarrassment.
We,
The tenants.
spend most of our time visiting ourselves.
Running up and down the stairs.
Moving in was the best decision I ever made

To a point
We over promise too much of ourselves.
In spite of how high we value ourself,
We actively listen in effort.
Refilling how much of ourselves we spill.
I am not ashamed to admit that at times I need help.
But it is in these times where I fully understand.
That there won't be another you.

You smile and help me realize that I never want to lose
any piece of you.
Stopping the spill to see how much you effect me.
In reaction to a sudden action of silence.
Most beloved.
It is especially important.
Where we don't have to prove anything to each other.
Just knowing that you are there is enough.
Just know that your love is enough.

It is in these moments.
I stop to think.
Where would I be without you.
Unimaginable