Where Are My Words?

how do I know

Maybe it's lust,
but I know lust is when
you look at someone
and want them.

When I look at you,
I don't want you.
When I look at you,
I smile;

because gazing upon you
means gazing upon constellations.
It means gazing into a hole
of understanding and worry.

Lust wouldn't make me want to stay;
I'd just want you.
But this feeling is more.
Lust doesn't make you want to stay

to convince them of their beauty.
Lust makes you want to stay
because their eyes are
just "quite pretty."

I stay.
Not only for your natural beauty,
but for the realization
that if I do

I could hear your laugh
whenever I wanted.
I could see you tilt your head back
and chuckle with that dazzling grin.
I could hear your voice,
hear it pause and stutter even though we've been together,
long enough,
to where you shouldn't be scared.

I stay.
Not because I will feel guilty
if I leave,
but because the voices tell me not to go.
The watery eyed and sparkling toothed face the voices resonate from
will taunt me if I packed my things to disappear.

I'm not scared.
I'm not leaving.
This isn't lust,
it's fate.

You think after all of this
I'd just go?
You think I'd just get up and take off?

This isn't lust at all;
it's love,
and you ask me how
I know that?

What else could it be
when all I want is to be by your side.
All I want is to be there
when you feel like crying.

I want to hold your speckled face
in my palms. I want to feel
your skin against the skin
that covers my bones.

I don't want to waste your time.
Time is your life;
your valuable life.
I could never harm that.

Lust is a one night stand.
Love is always being at your door,
knocking, waiting to come in,
waiting to hear your greeting.
Not because I was lonely,
but I could feel that you needed me
as much as I needed you.