Mar 27, 2014
After Andrea Gibson
Sometimes my tears
are just love letters
flying first class kamikaze pilot
into a gravity of weight
I will never be able to touch.
I peer down and see what the heart
and brain tell me I cannot.
This nervous system is a nervous wreck
wretched and terrifying.
You are a stunning eclipse
A heaviness my eyelashes
will never understand.
One my eyelids do.
They close heavy at the thought of you
not understanding your purpose.
There are beautiful things you were made for.
You allow me to see better.
To not judge character by first glance appearance.
To look into eyes and hands and hearts
To cry open and often.
I pass you in mirrors-
Awestruck and shaken
You dart by and do not let me exhale
in the girth of you.
You are the ghost in the funhouse
Passing through mirrors
as if they don't exist.
As if they are stretching the truth
and I am still trying to convince you
that you are the best thing I have ever looked at.
Have I not told you that you are the only body
I have ever seen from and everything
about yours is perfect?
Everything about you is battle scar and war torn
and I swear I tried my best to help
but all I could do was watch.
But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right?
This at least is true.
Oh how I envy the hands
And that they have held you.
How I envy the legs
that must carry you.
How jealous am I of the blood
that passes through you
and the bones
that rest beneath you.
How painful it is to send
Each tear rolling off the cliff
of the chin.
Each drop is a love letter
the brain keeps telling me not to write.