I want to write you down
before I forget what it's like to
look into your eyes
and see what I've died for,
begged for
in my mortality.
I want it wrap you in warm words
and whisper metaphors
and hear you simile back.
Your eyes are the sky, my love,
and your lips like the moon.
I want to do with you
what spring does with the cherry trees-
I want everything about you,
all the soft poems about your existence,
any word from your mouth-
I want
that.
And I think I would rather
not have anything at all
than have everything except you.
YOU ARE READING
One Side Whispers.
PoetryA book of poetry for lonely nights, the smell of cement, the way your smile looks after it's rained, and the pure paralysis of knowing you.