One of these times when you get drunk I hope you tell me you love me. Even if it's an unprocessed thought, a slip of the lip. Because it would mean, for one moment in time, I would've known what it was like to hear you say it to me.
Cause if you said it, for one split second of this massive and infinite universe, you had some sort of softness for me. Maybe you have already undressed me with your eyes and whispered into my ear in another world.
Because I could float through the rest of my life on a cloud of happiness knowing for however long it took you to say it and forget about it or take it back, you loved me.
You considered what it would be like to love me.
YOU ARE READING
Blue Eyes and Other Sources of Drowning
PoesíaFor the boy with blue eyes. For the love and friendship I grieved, and many other things. Started: 11/20/20 Finished: 8/8/22 My 8th poetry book.
