because you were open doors
charming smiles and sickly compliments
and that glint of mischief sealed well behind your eyes
you were nicely pressed suits,
but still a little scruffy, but that was okay
because it just suited you so well.
you were 'it's too early on a Monday to be worrying'
that subtle, cool ease, and questions that i couldn't
help but smile at.
you were 'have a good lesson' and too short exchanges
walking past and staring because i didn't know
when else I'd get the chance
paint covered desks and dirty hands and helping
and talking, and laughing and "so- hobbies?"
but he was hoodies and comfort
he was hugs I wanted so badly
and hands I wanted to intertwine mine with
he was 2 to 5 am, patterned insomnia
purpled stained bags under eyes
and the feeling that our friendship could never end
he was competency, not comfort,
his advice waited around every corner
and even behind that the thought of
"will this ever be enough?"
and he was ignoring the idea that it wouldn't
because nothing could ever make me run away
am i a little blind? sure, but he was helping me see
he was drunken walks, fresh air and
my favourite memories, he was poetry
and words and smiles and the feeling that
this life wasn't dead just yet. He was crying, too,
and panicking, and wishing i didn't exist,
but he was so much fucking more.
he was certainty, and truth, he was spiralling
so much as he was learning and loving.
he was an unfinished novel, where you
hope for the ending to be nice, but before all else
you hope that it never comes to that.
he was finally asking how my day went
and he was, though he'd never see it,
so easy to love.
YOU ARE READING
sugar glazed.
Poetrya collection of short and long poems that entail hopefully a real perspective on life, love and relationships with others. please read with caution, some themes are heavy so read away, darlings, or don't, after all, ignorance is bliss.
