rage and recovery

in a game of resistance, do either of us win?

i knew you'd come back to me

because no matter how much

we push each other away

and wage war with our words,

with our hearts,

we always find a way back 

to soft smiles 

and shoulder bumps

and laughter-filled insults

and tan skin.

i tried to let you go,

i tried to accept

that you will never want

what i want

or need me in the way

i feel like i need you.

but just when i thought

i would finally go to sleep

without your face 

in the movie of my dreams,

you came back

and you pulled me back in.

and you keep pulling me back in

with your smile and your laugh

and the spark in your eyes

and the promise of

tan skin against my lips.

but we keep playing this game

of push and pull

of chicken

of waiting and wishing and wanting

and all i want to know

is when you will lay down your tricks

and breath against my lips

and finally let me sink 

into the strength of your embrace?

i write poetry about your hands

and your eyes

and your heart

and your mouth,

but when will i get to know

the feeling of your hands against my ribs?

because everytime i think

the game of push and pull

has finally ended,

you show back up

with a hand in your hair

and a smirk on your lips

and i am right back

where i started

with hope in my mind

and insanity in my eyes

and i wait for the moment

you finally tell me

the name of the game

we keep playing.