Half English / Half Cynicism

Obviously || Poem #11

If I knew then what I know now, from the moment we first met I would point to Grandpa's favorite vinyl and say 

"I play this for you." 

It falters and skips but sometimes you can catch the clearest of notes scratching itself out 

but of course it skips. 

It's fifty years old. 

Nonetheless there's something so lovely about explaining the obvious. 

We all do it at some point. 

And like explaining the obvious it's obvious to say 

"you're so soft" 

when touching someones hands for the first time. 

And with all the falters and skips in my shaking hands you still let me touch you.

Your hands are so soft. 

Because I still think about the first time I touched you and if you read this, 

I want you to know you felt like silk.

But thats obvious. 

There's something so lovely about explaining the obvious, and the way it screams at us to admit it exists. 

The way it speaks like a black eye, or how every time it rains, someone just has to say 

"it's raining." 

However, the obvious never shows off. 

It's simply reminding us that years passed and somewhere along the way we grew up. 

Not perfectly.

Not straight or tall like we wanted,

but we got there eventually. 

It teaches us something about time,

about how theres never enough, 

and about how we'll never understand that. 

We will never understand each other. 

But if the universe isn't here or there,

left or right,

infinite or not, 

then we must understand that we will always be front and center in the middle of nowhere.

All we can do is share little bits of ourselves piece by piece, 

one at a time,

and hope those pieces are stored in the depths of our memories.

I hope they will mean something to each other. 

But we will always have the obvious.

It reminds us who we are and where we've been, 

that sits on our desks like a heart shaped jar. 

When I ask you to open it you say 

"I can't. Not without breaking it a little first..."

And to that I say:

"Go for it. Obviously."