i keep your name
on the tip of my tongue
like the sweet bubbles
i had on new year's eve.
you are so beautiful -
and that is not even the best about you.
i saw you with your little brother, one night,
you picked him up and hugged him tight
he smiled and laughed and hugged you tighter.
it looked like home,
a world drenched in honey,
like when i'm with you alone.
you are so beautiful -
it scares me.
i'm forever a child looking out the window
curled up, thinking you'll one day be there
urging me to run to you -
lips upturned, arms wide open,
where i am welcome.
in the dream only i know about
you have your head in my lap,
you feel my hands on your head
and we stay that way and it ends there.
i think of you as the half bottle of prosecco
i had on new year's eve;
a trail of gunpowder lit by the match you hold
ever so lightly between your fingers
with every glance you grant towards my eyes;
then and there,
i shut them close,
and allow myself to breathe.
i think of you if i don't see you
and if i won't see you again.
if i see you every saturday - sunday, or monday;
i think of you when you tell me we'll meet.
it's new year's eve:
a tall glass in my wavering hand,
a bottle half full somewhere,
bubbles on my tongue - sweet, as you.
