The Love Poem I'd Left Unwritten
Letâs talk for a second
about how your hands feel on my skin
when I donât want to let anyone in.
but pull sweet nothings from my lips.
your love eliminates my every sin
every song that we werenât able
to the rhythm of your own heart beat
and how the melody of our love
is harmonized in the seconds
when you walk in the door and meet my eyes.
When youâve heard the stories of each of my lives.
for not needing me to define you.
In spite of the posture I hold,
or the fact that I have broken the feminine mold.
I am everything youâve ever dreamt me to be
and you are the stanzas behind my teeth.
Donât think for a second
Only that you and I are meant to be.
Four-hundred-and-one days ago
for the man you had become.
Darling, I will still love you on day one-thousand-and-one.
As excitement builds to our next chapter
I think of only this moment, and not the one after.
Do you understand the wisdom in your smile?
as my identity is to the world?
Do you still smile when the girls ask about my girlfriend?
Iâve heard your laugh when I say, yes, heâs inside.
As I inhaled a cigarette on that cross country drive.
When you became more than the man I loved
but the son my mother always wanted,
and the brother my sister needed.
Is all of this too much to breathe in?
is nothing compared to the humidity of our hearts entangled
from a three am journey to Wal-Mart,
on the night we bought the bed
that we would wait to consummate
until the night we were wed.
And I love you, underneath a blanket of air plane exhaust
over every mile that we have ever crossed
and when your hands touch my skin,
on the nights I donât want anyone in.
I hope you try a little harder,
and remind me that this kind of love
is what people write poems about
That we are forever to be entwined
on the journey that they call life.
For each touch to my skin is reminder
that each tomorrow will be a little brighter.Â