I miss that, darling.
I want paint swatches and laughing with you,
and those really great glances
we can sometimes get,
though, of course, they aren't the right kind.
I want your calloused hands and dorky grin.
I want to be silly and serious and to call you
at three in the morning.
I want you to pick up your phone and
answer (I know you'd push 'ignore')
and say nothing and to let the
great pause fill the space between us.
I want to look at art on museum walls with you.
I want to make you coffee that's perfect.
But I can't really make good coffee,
it's always too strong.
This longing fills me with
daydreaming tendencies and I
cannot help but imagine these things,
so sweetly wrapped up in polaroidesque images.
I am a feeble dreamer,
but you, my dear, are the anchor to my
hazy dreams. Your face is always clear
and grinning.
Someday I want just one,
one tiny little daydream.
One moment, or even just a glance
to be as I long for.
Someday, it can be near or far,
or whenever.
I want to drive you somewhere,
anywhere. So that we may do whatever
we would be inclined to do.
I want too much,
it is not a healthy thing.
But enough, enough about what I want.
Tell me what you want.
Tell me about anything.
1 comment:
He would be the guy to like strong coffee.
Post a Comment