|Finding Mr. Write (revised)
||[Mar. 21st, 2011|12:50 am]
Or the poem I’d want him to write to me|
Tie your hair back with an old shoelace.
Let the wind catch wisps of your hair and
run with me like two lions in the wilderness.
There’s a squirrel by a tree that we chase in circles ‘til we fall like pennies in well.
Make a wish.
There’s a patch of dandelions and we crawl through
making wishes for the happiness of everyone we’ve ever had a crush on.
You steal my favorite t-shirt and play air guitar in my bed.
Kiss me like a coloring book
brightly and slipping outside the lines.
Take the shoestring out of your hair
and tie our hands together.
Let’s spend the night together
drawing ourselves in your sheets with our bodies.
Leave the window open.
We’ll talk ‘til the birds and sunrise wake the rest of the world we’d left behind.
You let me trace my fingertips on your belly and I write a poem about how
you’re too nice for me and how
I am too scared to ruin you.
You kiss my forehead and correct my spelling
and we fall back into your sheets and sleep ‘til the day fades into slumber again.