Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Loving Me 03/13

Loving me is not a convenience,
Corner store comfort
Where you spend pennies
Commuting between this world and yours
And memorizing every square inch,
Counting footsteps, rather than tile,
Between 2 meaningless transactions.

Loving me is almost consuming
The ashes of who you thought you were
Crumble under my heat,
And yet it doesn’t burn.
I glow like a campfire
And leave your marshamallows
Wonderfully gooey inside
That sticky stuff you love
Stretched across your fingers
Waiting for your lips.

Loving me is a journey, not a trip
Not a vacation or a get away deal
Improperly planned but seemingly on sale,
Squeezed into cities never visited
Without the thought
Of adventure or affirmation.
Loving me is like
Building stanzas of poetry
With bricks baked in words,
Basking in the glory of what could have been
And entrenched along the banks of the rivers
We share.

Loving me means my world
Isn’t mine
And you walk through
My Nile Valley and
Lay down my mountains
With me on your shoulders.
You raise me to my horizon
b/c I can’t see without you.

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