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.
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.