I am utterly convinced that one instant before you met me, I was a person you would not have liked. It was the locking of our eyes that made the final touch. I was a poem almost finished,
a paper almost written
but left unedited;
I am entirely sure that meeting your gaze changed me in the exact ways I needed to be changed to find you. At once, I had both departed and arrived. The boiling point was reached inside me when I saw my own reflection in you, and the chemical reaction was out of my control… I didn’t know before I knew you that I was anything less than whole.
And isn’t it funny how your fingertips complement my skin? It’s not you that completes the puzzle, but the act of letting you in. Seeing you stopped me circling circling circling to find the strength to say the things I needed to say. My life called for you, so I made way. Now I’m circling circling circling wondering if I have the words to help you hear me – if the words will make you stay.
For such a free thing, I hold tight to the illusion of control. I too am sometimes afraid by the vastness of the world, even in all my directionless traveling daze. My hands are stuck squeezed hard into fists because there was a time when I must always be ready for a fight. That time has passed; these fists don’t have a place to rest tonight. I keep my hand pressed firm against your chest to feel your heart beating, to remind us both that I am truly here.
And as many times and I run back over it, wearing bare the floor beneath my feet, when I look up from my mess
and find your honey eyes
That you always stay
is not nearly as important
as the way
May 21st, 2015