Title-less Poem

What is it that I think of you?

A Gift, granted at the right time

Can become an amazing memory.

Yet, memory is not where you should reside.

A mind’s home is permeable, permanent, too solid

For touch.

You belong in the tangible world,

Waking those around you with kindness

And attempts at humor.

Confidence seeping from your scars

And filling a void

In me

I had forgotten was empty.

Wholesome, contradictory, confusing

And yet comfort to the core.

What is it that I think of you?

Common ground to start from,

Bridging a gap between

Cities.

A gap that closes with a word, a message,

A seductive kiss.

The breathless kind, that leaves a head

Spinning

And aching for more,

But poised enough to retain

The title gentleman—

What is it that I think of you?

Drunk on the intoxicating fumes

Of laughter hung in the air,

I am reminded of the seriousness of age,

The pensiveness of the unknown,

And the sweetness of the moment.

Trustworthy,

Honorable,

Courageous.

I think of you

As an opening into a world unexplored.

Exciting, fearsome, beautiful precipice

Balanced between what was

And what is hoped to be.

You’re twisted into my imagination,

Popping strings of doubt

That vine around my heart

Protectively.

I think of you

Sweetly,

Drifting to sleep on a sea of unrequited dreams.

Fingers tangled in my hair.

I think of you often

And wonder at my sanity

And yours.

Longing for a moment when the last song stops

And the lyrics begin

As gentle as a lullaby

Whispering

I’m here.

I think of you.