I look at that picture
of us,
of me...

And you.

I remember the night it was taken,
the formal we went to as friends -
both of us, I think,
starting to realize we wanted more.

And my jaw clenches,
in that way it does
when I'm trying not to cry.

I swallow,
And press my eyes closed,
tight,
to hold back the tears
and the physical ache in my chest
that starts up again
every time I think of you.

I try to comfort myself with thoughts
of your eyes
and their indescribable, ever-changing color,
of the warm weight of your presence
on the bed next to me as I sleep.

I picture your hands enfolding mine,
rough thumbs twice the size -
less refined, we always joke; less-evolved.
You always win in thumb wars -
an unfair advantage, I always reply.
And how you grin and agree,
ever preferring being more primitive,
more animal.

And I wonder, knowing,
if you are still plotting revenge
for that wet willy in your ear
almost a month ago,
and I grin, anticipating your moves
and my blocks,
and maybe letting you get your way.

I think of your different laughs,
and your lopsided, adorable smile,
your different kisses...

God, those kisses.
Tender and fierce,
loving and demanding,
a continual, whirlwind paradox
that I never stop wanting,
even when my chin has been scraped raw
by your two-day stubble.

Those kisses -
the only occassions in my life
when I've truly known the meaning
of phrases like
'took my breath away'
and 'weak in the knees.'

I catch myself giving my hands
a little smile.
I laugh aloud, looking up.

And the picture catches my eye again.

What little comfort I found slips away,
because, undeniably, inevitably,
I know that in two short months
the pain will be so much worse.

05/13/2004

Author's Note: Topic from Rachelle Howe. Yes, I realize it may be a tad overly-sappy/romantic, but that's how I was feeling, so that's how it came out. But, by all means, feedback, please. *****Revised 5-18-2004 - I like this version better. More details that make it personal to me and him, and not just another love poem.

Posted on 05/14/2004
Copyright © 2024 Amanda J Cobb