How do I know
after a week's worth of phone calls
and five hours of
full moon front seat fawning
that you are the one
that I want to plan my future with?
Did I fall captive to your
glowing eyes, hypnotized and drawn
the same way I am to iridescent sparkly things
for sale in store windows?
Pale, pale green eyes, not the color
of sea foam, not as bright as lime,
but almost ghostly, a milky jade,
purified tourmaline, unnamed resin,
otherworldly, supernatural, all this
after only 8 days and not even
close to enough kisses.
We will have to spend days
making up for time lost not kissing.
(I owe you a couple dozen after
this paragraph alone.)
I could have been dismayed
by the times you turned away,
but you turned from me, to your son,
and the love you have for him
only sweetened and endeared you to me,
as I watched in awe at your interaction,
and wished somewhere that I had
a daddy so great as you.
But you would return, lavish me
with your smiles and fumbling graces,
offer me anything I could want,
though really what more could there be,
after the expanse of your smile,
the depth of your eyes,
and these you not only offered but,
rather, bestowed upon me, to where
I saw I held an exquisite gift
and almost could not accept it
for it was too too beautiful.
After your son I knew that the words
and compliments you gave away
were not half so valuable as your time,
and even now I realize that it is a blessing
that we both so dearly cherish
our time spent talking, as that
is almost all we have to give,
and do so, without reservation.
I hang up the phone each night,
after having you sound so close,
to where you could whisper in my ear,
and I look around the room for you,
maybe you're just outside the door?
maybe inside the closet? under the table?
But after seeming right there next to me,
it is devastating to find you
nowhere at all - miles and miles
of separation that seem an unfair obstacle.
Can I share you? I haven't had to yet,
I hoard visions of you like a miser's gold,
and whenever someone asks,
or even when they don't, I give away
only small details of the huge feeling inside.
I don't want to share.
But it is you and your son both,
I knew that you came with accessories,
and I wouldn't like you half as much
without them, so how would I share you
with some one thing that is a part of you?
It isn't a matter of sharing at all.
What I fear most is
knowing you and never having you,
like seeing bliss on the other side
of a window and having no axe, or no strength,
to break down the barrier.
Part of me recoils from this feeling of wanting,
but it is all of me that wants,
and you are what is wanted.
I am not afraid. More so,
I am impatient. Why must I travel
time and distance to find you, have you,
be with you?
Tonight my rationale has escaped me.
My entire being wants nothing more
than to curl up to your warm belly,
kiss your perfectly shaped mouth,
and sleep blissfully under your protective,
ethereal gaze.
I know what this feeling is called.
I would that it should grow,
and you could know,
and feel it too.