little things

i’m obsessed with gentle love

cardamom palms on my shoulders

and a hand on top of mine

i could eat it up like turkish delight

and write about it all day long

like a little kid, crying into a pillow

some fucked-up brand of self soothing i am too proud to exhume

’cause i’m pissed off and sad

and sometimes, looking in on happy endings from the outside

makes me want to cry

tears of anger and relief

and mostly why why why

i’m obsessed with an infinite love

that stands the test of time

a love where we listen like a symphony

and never stop changing our minds

and we’re eighty years old, and still best friends

so bury us side by side

is that normal?

i don’t really know how this stuff works

so excuse me, if i trip over my words

because my love always tended

to wither in my palms

but i like the little things about you

half-minutes where i just want to believe

that we could stay like this for the rest of eternity

make dinner, and go on a walk

and watch tv

and all this bullshit would be worth it

if i had you, and you had me

and maybe we’d never be each others’ everythings

but you’d be my anchor

and the wind that blows me out to sea

you’d be my lilac spring bloom

and my rose-petal certainty

you’d be soft, and clear like the shore

and i’ll catch you if you catch me


You can interpret this to be about love, but it doesn’t have to be! I feel like we put way too much focus on romantic love, when, like, there are so many other interesting bonds to write about, so I left this piece purposefully ambiguous.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s