I Want To See Your Eyes
I want to see your eyes. I need to give a name to the irises that have haunted me from scrounged poetry and forgotten words. When I read, it reminds me of you; a silhouette belonging to a soul I have never had the pain of meeting. You are there when I'm up at three in the morning, scrolling through the poets who write with such lovely agony. And for once, I'm looking forward to getting drunk on yours. Chaos, scars; I can trace them along the backs of my hands, in my memories. They remind me that someone can love them for what they are; dust smattered divinity forgotten in shambling basements, decrepit crypts. But, unlike most who search for their treasures in their grandmothers’ attics, I will wait for you. Long before you, I chased lovers with my words, too blinded to see that they never actually started the conversation. So, I will wait for you. You are not mine to find, but for both of us to chance upon. And oh, how beautifully we ...