tunnels & collar bones

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

casually.
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,
each second,
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

in one

breath.

the long game

how long does it take for you to know
that im your person?
how much assessing
evaluating
weighing
& deliberating among friends
before you come to the conclusion
that i’ve arrived at months ago?

it shouldnt matter if you’ll be gone for years
because if this is real, it’ll outlast the distance.
on the other hand;
the years matter if they embody the test.
because if it’s real, when all the pieces fall into place
then you’ll know if my piece is still right beside yours.
with no guarantees
no commitments
just faith.

“dont be anxious
dont be worried
i can see it in your face
we’ll figure things out”

when he catches me
before i can get caught up
in my own runaway thought train
when he lassos me with his reality
& pulls me in close

is when i realize
he’s willing to balance
on that fine line
between hope
& reality
for me.

orbit

i don’t ascribe to “the right person” theory
but i do believe people can “click.”

it feels so easy
i didnt ever know,
it could be this easy.

to enjoy listening to someone
to want to do anything to take away their stress
to believe, whole heartedly, completely & truly,
that they are amazing.

we’re those people
circling one another in their own orbit
dancing to their own music that no one else can hear

is this sustainable?
do people do this for the rest of their lives?
because i dont ever want to leave this solar system
or have to stop for water when my legs give out

i just want to keep spinning
pirouetting
because this?
is wonderful.

grey

i wish
i could be the kind of girl
just along for the ride.
revel in the silence
& await the big reveal.
& if he bows out
before it ever gets to that point in this romantic comedy?
it’s fine.
rewrite the script
cast a new leading man.
you still have a movie.

i wish i could be that girl.
more than any other self deprecating thoughts i have–
this one ranks the highest.

but because i can’t
because i’ve tried
and failed
again & again
at trying to be her,
can’t we just have a go at me being this one?

& not consider each time i push for answers
to be two steps backward into the abyss of unknowns?
that grey area
where you can’t tell where the horizon is,
the foreground from the background,
or anything in between
is what got me here
in the first place.

this is me
in the middle of a room
with a hundred different paint swatches of grey
laid out around me
holding each one up to the light
to see if it matches the walls.

“is it more of a ‘classic french grey’? … no? how bout an ‘earl grey’? or ‘gauntlet grey’?

i think i got it–

“agreeable grey”