I arrest my thoughts
to keep a steady pace
To make the moment last
To take in the same air you
breathe
– When you stand in
this spot to get to
the garage
– or to talk to the neighbors
the way you always do
With that heightened
sense of glee that
tickles your regular tone
Or at least strays from the
mono-tone
That you give to me
To let me know you’ve
grown comfortable enough
to not have to produce that
sun-shiny glee in my presence.
It’s a saddened state,
the reality that lies behind
closed doors.
To know that because
I am so close
I am pushed so much
farther away
from your charms,
your wit,
the lightness of heart
you feel – they see …
When taking in
my next breath in
this spot.
Your spot.
The gleam from the
lamp light, the one on
the top shelf
in your bedroom,
serves as my beacon home.
To the warm, worn, floral
comforter that
subdues your bed
- and the light smell
of your sweat
that stains the atmosphere
and my every sphere
until my gaze is caught
by the oncoming lights…
why am I here?
“Oh. I was just passing
through – didn’t know
I would see you!”
And with a monotone
“Yeah”, I stray
behind – secretly
following the
hint of your aroma
to the opened door.
© 2010, Caela Strong. All rights reserved.
