sleeping, you look like a defiant angel, all soft and yet poised to fight.
could there be anything more sure than a piece of a puzzle falling into place?
what if you were my answered prayer?
i stopped questioning :what ifs: a long time ago.
but, what if?
shush. have faith. be still.
-----
looking out of the window was part of the pattern, that :sit, wait and your prince will come: syndrome, bedamned those fairy tales you grow up with.
this time, looking out the window on a sunny, lazy summer day, he walks by. and looks up.
the conscious/unconscious looking up, in anticipation, in waiting for you to arrive- one really doesn't expect anyone, but one always looks up, almost in reflex, instinctively, perhaps?
that sip and stare motion that you do absent-mindedly, cinnamon wafting up your nose. the comfort of a caramel macchiato in your hands and suddenly
he looks up and for a split second, he's inside your head,
you smile and remember better times.
and you didn't even know someone could see you from up there.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment