The night
that you whispered your love
to my ears,
did you know
that I swore right then
that I'd never be Van Gogh,
and cut you off?
I haven't;
I'm still your north star
sitting in your mason jar,
with the fireflies,
reminding you
that when you're lost
home really isn't that far.
I like to pretend,
that when you're sleeping,
my faith is stronger,
so I lean down and kiss your hands
before kneeling at your temples
and praying.
I feel blessed
every time you exhale,
and I find myself
wanting to be the eyelash
that loses its way,
and falls to your fingertips
to be held tightly as your wish.
I'll always to my best
to come true,
for you.

11/09/2012

Posted on 11/10/2012
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