I swear to God
there's some nights
when the silence out here
is much further
than I'm willing to run.

It used to drive me crazy.

But lately,
I have to admit
that it hasn't been that bad.

I have you to thank for that.

-When the sun is as high as it can get,
and I have my window facing your direction,
I wonder if I accidentally shut it that one time
when you tried to sneak in.

-Still you come around,
playing with my hands at just the right angle
to make it seem as if we’re one.

I remember that.

If memory serves,
and I’m taking out an ad
in the paper to make sure
it does this time,
I think that was the first night
when I paid attention to your eyes.

They didn’t have a whole lot
of trouble knocking me back
to the last time I was twenty-three.

There were round-about
a million things I wanted to say,
but I kept my mouth shut.

I suppose I was afraid
of saying something stupid
and completely ruining
the way you were looking at me.

-I think you did say something stupid,
but I found it endearing;
I still do

-I still recall the shuffling of your feet,
the clammy palms you wanted to hold against my face.

-These nights I can feel you at my back,
even though I know the window is still closed
and there’s no way you’d be able to climb that high.

-I think I’m wondering what the next step
is going to be,
and whether or not the jar of fireflies
is becoming increasingly dim.

Slowly but surely,
I’m learning to be reliable.
I’m learning to be someone
who deserves your staggering smile
and your hands against my chest,
getting my tired heartbeat back to normal.

I think it has to start
with retiring the terminal
stand-up act for good.
Turning in my cheap suit
and letting someone else
stumble out from behind the curtain.

I’m closer to that than I’ve been in years,
and I hope you’re in the mood to keep
moving forward with me.

I hope you’ll take a chance
on letting me wake up beside you.

-Of all the acts I’ve witnessed,
there seems to be something in the way yours
makes me flutter,
and I’m thinking it’s because it really isn’t an act.

-I can guide you off the stage,
but I can’t take the spotlight off you
just yet;

-I’m thinking you have one final act left in you
and I don’t want to miss out on any opportunity
to see you at your best.

-I know you think you won’t make me laugh
and I’ll end up running through the exit door,
but there’s a reason for even the smallest things
that bend themselves to fear.

-You’re the one part I know I can live without,
but why would I ever want to.

12/25/2008

Author's Note: with Gabe. Took us long enough.

Posted on 12/26/2008
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