Sometimes I wonder if I’m really even a poet or if life is just magic. Because I think back to when I first met you and I can’t help but wonder if it’s nostalgia…or was there really a difference in the way you swayed your hips when you moved past me? Those glances I noticed from across a room all the time we were like two candles flickering in the dark to each other. It’s amazing the memory feels like I was drunk, but it’s just the deepening of my chest. I’ve robbed girl’s hearts searching for for what I felt when you kissed me. I’ve become things I never thought I could- but cocoons survive the winter, my heart got no thinner, butterflies emerged from the soul of me and it was okay. Every moment with you feels spilled and my thoughts kind of race to the moment you have to leave and the next time I’d be able to see you again. I’m tripping over my anticipation of knowing you more. I’m not sure…these are just my thoughts of you put into words. A mess of memories and hope.
Posted on: Sun, 07 Dec 2014 02:28:48 +0000
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