Your love rains down on me without end,
and I don’t think I’ve ever been happy to drown before.
But what hides behind your rain clouds?
What warmth do you hide behind the grey veil?
It is suspicious and yet, not suspicious at all.
I too would hide a love that might burn my beloved.
I too would hide a love that might be too much for anyone to bear.
We have a rule in my house,
no lectures by my father until after nine o’clock in the morning,
no lectures after nine o’clock at night.
He’s a long winded man who likes the sound of his own voice and repeats himself often.
He didn’t seem to catch on to the fact that sometimes we just wanted to forget about our intellect for a while.
We just wanted to be a family that laughed together.
Whatever God created me, conjured you to be my lover.
You were made for me.
You were made to be my perfect dream, my beloved.
And now we are together, for this lifetime and the next.
For you are and always will be mine.
How is it that you can conjure up this longing in me so easily?
One passing thought of you and I am left aching.
You must have strong magic beloved.
I summoned you in a dream,
like magic, I conjured you out of every secret desire I had.
And you came to me, resplendent.
What mnemonic device do I have to use to remember
the exact color of your eyes?
To remember memories that are best buried and forgotten,
but I’m too stubborn to let go of?
I don’t know either.
I’ve seen your face before.
Maybe not in this life.
But I remember you.
Your voice is a mnemonic device,
bringing back memories from back and back and back.
You have always been my beloved, haven’t you?
I see flame trapped in smoke and darkness,
I see my love for you surrounded by doubt.
This stone contains such power, my love.
It insists on being used, pulsing in my hand like a beating heart.
I will use it to reach you.
Your warmth surrounds me, beloved.
Oh, how I’ve missed the heat of you.
You have waited for me and in the shadows of my heart
you have demanded my attention.
How could I deny you?
So I can only cry out yes, ecstasy in my soul as I admit the truth, when
Your voice, my favorite lullaby, whispers in my ear, insistent;
Am I not your lover?
This nagging sense of something not quite right,
sitting resplendent within my chest,
on throne made of the bones of imagined scenarios that will never happen.
All my worry simplified into one thought of dread.
What if my mistake could not be fixed?