Things I Can Never Tell Him, or You, or Him, or Me pt. 2

I don't have a lot to say

when I ask  you if I'm pretty

and you say "Okay",

You see I'm asking you if you love me

and though I know it's true,

I need you to confirm it

or else I turn blue.

I watch movies that make me weep

and imagine blonde girls that with you sleep,

I know it's dumb that this is rhyming,

but darling, I don't have the best timing

to tell you that what I want you to do now

is to come here and kiss my brow,

so then I may rest gently

and my soul my hug you calmly.

I'm scared you're going to become a stranger,

that the blue of your eyes or the brown of your hair

or the way you wore that fat little watch on your wrist

is going to disappear from the memories in the middle

of my eyes,

the same eyes you yearned to be with you forever.

I'm scared you're going to become a figment of my

once long forlorn imagination,

another poem lost in the midst of reality,

a dream, a whisper, a caress against the reality of the

life I lead.

The more I hold on, the more you slip away.

I'd rather believe that you never existed.

Can anything compare

to the sight of his brow on my chest?

Laying down,

the peace of sleep smoothing his forehead

and molding his smile to my own,

The memory of his beard on my neck

as his lips made hallelujahs emerge

from in between my ribs.

Can anything compare the feel of his hand

intertwined in my mine?

The way his skin, rough and brazen

wrote songs against the veins and valleys

of my little fingers,

wrapped so tightly around his

memorizing the way they moved so that

one day when we are to separate,

the tears that will escape my eyes

cannot erase the sights and smells created

by the love that we once shared,

long ago,

in a bed too tall in a world too small.