hoping she understands
that poem was a little hasty
i don't even know if she knows
how she feels
about me
hoping she understands
why i blush every time her name is mentioned
why i scribbled those world-heaving words
and handed it to her with a trembling hand
hoping she understands
why
because
my heart
definitely doesn't.
we weren't even close to fairy tales. but
your hands clasped in mine felt like satiny silk
on a wedding dress made for
this warmth that pricks my heart full of
blood and oxygen that tastes of you
every second I think
this is the oldest I have ever been
this is the youngest I will ever be again
this second is gone this one too
tell me I cannot drink the air;
yet the smoke on the horizon curls like a finger,
inviting me to taste February in the wind
and know time is running out
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