“Oh look a shooting star,
make a wish.”
that superstition you keep.
I close my eyes and pretend,
only because it makes you feel better,
your wish is my command.
But I don’t wish upon childish things like that,
Yet I’ll never tell because
“you’re not supposed to reveal your wish or else it won’t come true.”
You’ll never know I don’t believe.
She Didn’t Know She Moved Mountains
Your eyes remind me of clear waters,
hair like streaks of sun.
I still see you.
You’re tangible to me.
A classic cappuccino,
The blue umbrella,
That god awful floral sofa.
You’re still with me.
Shoulders back, hips sway
High heeled staccato steps.
Head down, music in.
Stay afar, keep away,
don’t get too close
You seemed to be trying to say.
I still have your quilt on the bed,
made every day to be as pretty as you;
faded lipstick notes on the mirror,
your favorite oxblood shade.
Your things just as you left them,
just as you like it,
How am I supposed to let you go?
The only thing seemingly out here:
You feel like you are
continuously going past
the same trees.
for the signs
showing how many miles are left.
My perpetual destination.
The rolling hills