yellow [poetry]

cold

when i first asked,
people used to tell me
about how love
was supposed to feel like

“it's warm and soft,”
they said with a smile.
“like a mother's touch
and the feel of home.”

and one day, i met you
i realized it, then and there
but what i felt was
nothing like they had said

it was the cold air
the one i felt at night
while watching the stars
by the window side

it was the wonder i had
seeing the shapes in the sky
and how the connecting lines
could leave me with a sigh

it was the hope i had
finding the early light
coming from the sunshine
and the chirping of life

and then i knew i loved you
because the way you lived,
the way you were,
and the way you loved

were nothing like being
lost or alone
nothing like the fragments
of my broken home