Just in Case

Just in case
your tomorrow
doesn’t find me
in the realm of the tangible,
but rather
coasting subways
to burrow into boroughs
of an after life
void of you.

I’ll apologize now
for shying away
from awkward introductions,
for being the hallmark
of timidness,
for standing
half past bashful,
wishing to express in words
just how much I regret
never tasting a future with you
in anything more
than a shot glass
of wishful attempts,
waiting to be chased
by excuses
I could never stomach living with.


Caught in the Act of Dreaming

She once said,
“To be nice,
is to be naive
and stupid.”
And if that’s the case,
I choose to believe
that I have a chance,
a special slot
in your heart of hearts.

I’ll let my gullibilty
bet all for you
for a pot of jack in return.

I’ll choose to believe
that your senses
yearn for me,
as much as mine do for yours.

Choose to believe
that reels of us together
still play
on the ceiling of your eyes,
and that you
still smile at the credits
that boast nothing
but what we once were.

I still believe,
that you could believe
in us,
in an us that never budded
past the existence
of wishful thinking…

Not Until You Say Yes

This, is for all the times
I told myself
that I wouldn’t,
love you.
For the excuses
that divorced us,
forced us
to believe them as truth
til we found ourselves
married to lies we swore
to love and cherish.
And in all honesty,
I would shop with you again;
but this time,
to buy back the part of me
that wasn’t afraid
to say yes,
the part committed to say
til the death of death
I do,
the part of me that
never really
stopped loving you.

This time,
I’ll chance circumstances;
do more than
prance around the idea
of leaving you with
wishes to wed,
and web between synapses
longing for connections.

This time, I’ll engage
more than your physique.
I’ll marinade your thoughts
within my eardrum,
so you’ll know that I’m listening;
sauté them along
my distractions,
slowly ingest them
’til the span of my attention
save the leftovers
for foreplay,
become intimate
with your daydreams,
undress your fantasies
by candlelight,
and bury your secrets
under sheets of trust
we can become lost under.

See this time,
you won’t find me
in the end zone
of your friendship,
or as the bench warmer
of your rejections;
the waterboy
to quench your thirst of attention when he can’t afford to,
or limping on crutches
from a broken self-esteem.

This time, you’ll find me
at the end of your thoughts,
the beginning of the next
writing my vows to you
til you’re ready
to say yes.