IWantedToWriteALovePoem

I want to write the most amazing love poem. A love poem I could never dare dream of one-upping no matter how many times I replayed Super Mario Bros. or wrote to Santa asking for redo’s and cheat codes for creativity.

I want to make Christmas lists for secret Santa’s and cards for Cupid just so that I would get an opportunity to tell you the following things.
I want to understand you deeper than anyone else ever has.
I want to get lost in the maze inside of your fingerprints, or in the forest of filaments that is your hair shining like tungsten in light bulbs. I want my fingertips to tap dance a love poem in Morse code on the most sensitive part of your torso, to make your knees quiver like archer’s ammo and caress your skin to read your goosebumps like Braille and send electrical charges down the wires in your spinal cord.

I want seconds with you to feel like minutes, and minutes to feel like days, and days to feel like years because monthsaries are stupid….and I don’t understand why you’d even want to celebrate one.
Maybe because you can’t keep a relationship for even a year.
But believe me when I say I would work to keep you by my side until hell freezes over, or dinosaurs come back to life, or the zombie apocalypse happens, or robots take over, or aliens invade or…

You just don’t love me anymore.

But even then, I’d still toil like construction workers building a new foundation.
Because I don’t want to hold you in my arms…

I want to hide you on an island with me. Or a cryogenic chamber so that I could have you forever. The most delicate yet beautiful creature frozen in time like roses dipped in liquid nitrogen, playing hide and seek with the passing of time and the wilting of whispers of forever’s and murmurs of always.

I want to write a love poem about slipping that fluffy slipper on your foot at the stroke of midnight, because glass heels look uncomfortable. I want to Marty McFly to the exact second you were born and yell “DIBS!” to your parents for your hand in marriage for my infatuated and totally in love 25 year-old self. I want to play connect-the-dots with the stars and find an image of you.

I want you to be my inspiration, my muse. When I slave over my words to build a masterpiece like Egyptian slaves building pyramids, you can force me to keep going with simple flicks of your lashes…that frame your eyes like edges on a Scrabble piece worth one point but placed on a triple word square its worth gets multiplied from simple beginnings with so much potential.

I want to be so comfortable with you that I could tell you anything and everything.
Like how my arms are jealous of the way your blanket gets to stay wrapped around you every night. Or how my shoulders envy how your pillow gently holds your head while you dream about something other than me. Or how my compliments are jealous of the oxygen in your lungs, the way you accept it so gratefully and then it settles so close to your heart.

And I could tell there’s something wrong as soon as you say, “It’s nothing.” Because your problems are like tongues the way they remain hidden behind your smile, only being revealed if someone pays enough attention to look closely. Or when they’re forced out of your mouth by necessity like a gag reflex. Then I would type my apologies and words of comfort on tablets of vitamins and Tylenol hoping they would make you feel better.

I want to write a list of everything I want and see how you react to it, then maybe I would read it on stage, or read it to you in private, or just send it to you with a "Sincerely yours," but really I just want you to get the message.
I want to tell you all of this…but I can’t. So I wrote it in a love poem.