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22 Days.
by Trisha De GraciaI'll go with you
in my pretty new dress
to watch the planes
as they whirl and pull
away from the ground
and into the air,
away from my home.
You'll buy some fancy latte
to impress me only,
always, and,
I'll have a sip
though caffiene spells
the death of me.
(We'll laugh
and you'll lick milk foam
from your lips.)
But underneath
ticktickticktick
truth of time and circumstance
will whirl your longing,
empty lips and heart away
and pull you high into the air
away from this inconstant ground,
this girl you said you had to love
the world that made you think that this
was more than just impossible...
The jet will lift
and I'll crush empty coffee cups
between my shaking fingers.
06/13/2004
Author's Note: This is love in its most confused sense, because it is both love and nothing like love. It is both wanting him to stay and wishing deeply that he'd leave. It is understanding the real beauty of every 'what if' and wanting nothing to do with it. It's loving someone else so much that even with another trying hard to cut in, and knowing full well how great he might dance, I'll waltz with the first for no better reason than the fact that I love him entirely.
Posted on 06/13/2004
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia
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