Glances

Folder: 
2017

Stealing glances, picking little fights

when you’re the only one I would never push down-

you are already too sunk with your ship,

rooted in lonely chaos.

 

We are tangled because they told us to

and when I reach past you

I could swear you almost take my hand,

there is no shame in this

unless I want there to be.

 

Scribbling secrets, spring midnights

when we paint the sky open with laughter…

we will regret breaking dawn

but we can never regret as much as we will miss.

And when you’re across the table

I could wake the whole world

with these deafening glances.

 

I want to tell you how you talk,

how it builds this sun around us and

I see it like a comfort that could break any moment

but somehow you still manage to hold it up.

 

I want to tell you how you sound,

tired and happier than you’ve ever been in daylight,

like no matter how late it gets you’d rather be here,

like you’ll never hold it over me if I trip.

I want to tell you how you sound,

hands that can’t hold you up at this hour,

a voice stumbling over itself,

a voice tired and messy but I love it that way.

 

I want to tell you how you look,

not even trying to stay awake,

you don’t need to when these bonds are unspoken and

so I keep glancing over at you,

seconds then minutes at a time,

hoping you might catch me,

wishing you won’t.

 

I want to tell you how you love,

tired and you’re still better at human than me,

if we are marbles or minutes or just what someone needs

you give so so so much more than you take.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 3/16/17

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life_used_to_be_lifelike's picture

Man. This one hit home.  I

Man. This one hit home. 

I even have writer's envy :)

so amazing. Our minds are scary similar. 

 


"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.