I love you
like a sea otter loves it’s favorite rock.
Fact: sea otters will search high and low
for a perfect rock
Smooth and ideal in shape
to rest on their belly
& smash clams and shellfish upon
they even have a pouch of skin
Where they keep their favorite rock
are my sea otter rock.
i want to run through every red light to get to you faster
the butterflies caged in my chest break free
when i recognize your silhouette across the dark parking lot
i want to live with my face buried in the space between your collar bones
your smile sets my gut at ease
like the ease you have with kissing the top of my forehead
with a warm, “hey babe”
& i never knew how much i craved
the velvety softness of those two words
until you say it
like how you casually play off the incredibly thoughtful things you do for me,
like loading the Harry Potter audiobooks to a playlist for me,
or leaving me “thinking of you” videos in the morning.
i want to extend each moment,
because time apart feels like that game i used to play with my brothers,
holding my breath at the entrance of a tunnel
only allowing myself to exhale once you reach the other side–
only, it’s not a game now.
& i’ve only just caught my breath with you
& don’t want to hold it a second more.
& yet.. i want to let you leave.
i want you to go conquer the world,
and be the person you tell all about it
at the end of the day.
if you didn’t ask me, “how was your circle group meeting?”
i’m quite sure
that all of this
would’ve come tumbling out
“is she your type?” i ask, motioning to the smokin’ hot YouTube guru i had playing on his desktop
“come here” he says, pulling me to sit on his lap at the edge of his bed
“you are my type” he affirms, wrapping his arms around my waist
“no i’m not” i laugh rolling my eyes, then searching his for a visual contradiction to his words
i find none.
“you are now.” and he kisses me on the cheek
i love that we share inside jokes
& subtle ways of showing affection
it gives me a sense of exclusivity
even if the world doesn't know what to make of us yet.
"Note to self: Always remember how lucky you are to wake up next to someone who thinks you're the shit."
i’m lucky enough to witness
passengers who instinctively interlock hands
when the engines start to roar
& the exhilaration pumps through
when the metal bird seems to shudder with excitement
it’s all the more adorable when it’s an elderly couple
she’s gazing out the window
he’s flipping through the inflight magazine
& in that same moment they reach blindly for each other
& give the others hand a little squeeze
it’s alright, we’re almost there say the fingers to one another.
one’s wrinkles blend into the others
one’s sun spotted skin becomes the others
if I had to leave this earth
trapped in this metal bird
I’d like my body to be found with my fingers entwined with my love’s
just like that.