dancetilyoufallinlove

You left me

without a trace.

And now I’m here,

trying to find what

I thought we had.

But I just keep getting led into

dead ends and

empty alleyways

almost as deep,

dark, and

dusty

as your heart.

But late at night

when I can’t sleep

I can almost feel you

retracing your footsteps

on my back

as you try to find

what’s rightfully

yours.

There were two layers between us.

A layer and a fence.

A cotton sheet and a metal bar.

So close and yet so far.

Our fingers intertwined

like decades in a century.

You couldn’t tell from left and right,

our thumbs like the second hands in clocks,

the only way to decipher from clockwise and counter.

I remember the last time

and the first time

we spoke.

They were both so easy,

like water through a strainer.

It was here.

Right here.

Come close.

A little closer.

Can’t you recall anything?

I do.

I’m madly in love with you,

I’m madly in love with you,

I can’t believe this poem’s for you

It was here.

Right here.

But your skin was wet and my words don’t make sense,

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I just wanted to remember how your fingers moved along the contours of my forearm and how I’m stuck remembering how your heart felt enclosed by mine.

Am I getting this right?

Am I getting this right?

And in remembering I almost forgot how you broke my heart

And you’ll never understand how hard and fast I fell.

“The little things count,

It’s the little things that count.”

And you knew the little things

and how to twist them to make me believe

in a god that doesn’t exist.

But I’m here on my knees anyway,

praying anyway.

I can’t sleep tonight.

I wish I could,

so I could dream of someone else,

because I know you are.

I’ve read that our pupils dilate when we see something that we’re attracted to.

I fear my eyes are playing tricks on me

These windows not a straight path to my soul.

Not a yellow brick road.

But a jagged, dusty alley

littered with lies and black eyes.

It doesn’t make sense

It doesn’t make sense.

My words on a high,

they’re not making sense.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I can’t believe this poem’s for you.