That’s all we will ever need! Please. Just see me through my shaking knees, trembling heart and wet eyes.
Now, whether we’ve only ever connected by looking at each other or have already entered each other’s home, I believe in us.
I’m scared of tables being flipped, being stared at and my whole world falling apart, being misunderstood. All I want to do is cherish you, remain innocent and possibly see your fingers graze mine.
I’ll chop the whole dam forest down to feed the fire breathing warmth over us. I’ll cover for you like a cornerback subbing for a qb. I’m just staying in my lane. I hope you verbally acknowledge the way we both feel loud enough I hear you. Even IF it is the blind leading the blind, I SHOULD be able to hear you.
I don’t yell, I don’t unearth roots pulling plants from the ground, I don’t destroy individuals for doing their best.. unless I’m dealing with an unresponsive heart trying to turn the ambulance around!
I’ll go ahead and ADD you to the list of homies I write poetry to and for! My knees quivering is not unusual. I hope you reach out “BRO,” establish a problem-free line of communication and try to ease my fears by standing up for me. If I could literally box my heart and mail it TO YOU, I hope I would know the correct address to write on the postage.
I’ll throw a fit if you want me to. I’d rather not create an uproar but if I do not know how you feel, I will save my own skin. I DO want more! I want YOU and I to try talking things out.
Get ready for kitchen appliances to be thrown. The knives are out on our favorite part of the counter. You know, the one we stare at picturing one cheek hanging off of. I’m shy. And… I’ll probably deny real emotions, fuel, ambitions and wishes. See me through that and it’ll all be yours. The home, the covers, the morning joe and breakfast I make you in bed.
MY SWEETHEART POETRY is growing in length. I hope you see it and feel free to call it all your own.
Using names scares me, not being able to perfectly predict the rain or time to expect this train to be pulling into and out of the station unnerves me too.
Patience, stamina, girth, it’s all wit. I could care less when people get offended these days. I’ll throw a protest. I’ll show tapes of crowds applauding skits of Romeo reading my lines.
Paint me a picture of our legs intertwined, ma. I’ll do my best to leave the ends of my lines rhyming. These days I’m finding my way outlining hearts the best I can with my hands. BYE NOW!