If you were my boyfriend
I'd want to hold your hand,
But not the way you'd think.
Id just want the tips to touch
JUST THE TIPS
Our finger tips
To touch for a split MILLISECOND
and then release.
Dragging off into complete comfort
Youd think id mean our arms
But i mean our own gravity
Wrapped around us telling us of why we feel this way.
Id never want to
HOLD YOU SO TIGHT
NEVER LETTING YOU GO
I already have my own nightmare from that...
But that's another poem.
The one thing I can't let go
Is our memoirs of us that glows
As the start of when this gag fest started
It was in art class
We were oil painting
And though we never glanced at each other,
I felt so pleased to be the seat you sat next to
I'd sit back and relax and watch you paint
Watch your brush strokes dance and wish
That was us
You complimented me and I called you cute
YOU DID OUT OF YOUR SEAT
and wrapped your arms around me.
I don't know if it was the oil paints
Or the butterflies in me
But I felt a type of buzz that still hits
Whenever our eyes meet.
You see i'm more of an abstractionist
And you're an impressionist
But let's get together and make something
That looks like the Chicago lights at night
Unsure blurs that sets the tone
Mark me as you will but i'm sorry
Just like oil paints over time
You're going to be a cancer of mine.
If I was your girlfriend
I wouldn't be
I already know where things would be
And that's okay
There's a comfort in knowing where things will be.