to hope

just when I think there is nothing
left to say goodbye to,
I find one thing more
that needs a farewell.

a person
a thought
a dream
a home

a part of myself I forgot I had
until that moment
when a song,
a touch,
a laugh,
reminds me.

at times, I think I will
forever be saying goodbye
to the same people
over and over.
the same hopes,
the same idea of you.
you who I do not yet know–

with a toast of Boudreaux
and a half attempted smile
to assure you, I am ok,
even when I am not.

I want your smile
at my doorstep
when I don’t ask or
expect it.
I want to kiss
with a fierce intention
in a unknown street
with unfamiliar smells–
except for the scent of
your neck on my lips.

I dream of you,
sometime between
midnight and three
in the morning.
when the air is most silent
and my throat begins to parch
from holding my tongue too
firmly against the roof of my
mouth.

it wants to break free
and talk with you, kiss you
and find you in those mornings,
when I can barely make out
the tulips on the night stand.
when the dogs roll over and
moan and then lick their lips
as though they are running
after something.

like I am.

I wonder what it will be like
when you arrive. how my
sheets will smell. how I might
cook dinner a little differently.
how my dog might lay across
your lap as though he has known
you were coming.

I wonder how I will change.
which music I will choose in the car.
the color of lipstick I might try
when you take me out to dinner.
which heels you would like.
or not like.
perhaps you might simply prefer
my feet in your hands, flopped
over your knees like a rag doll.
tired, limp, and at home.

the summer will taste differently.
the way I curl my hair will
fall softer around my face.
perhaps, my fingers will fall softer
upon my skin in the shower,
on my chest, in the morning as I wake,
on your face in the hours of the moon.

and I will love you like
the way words love
a blank page.
and I will hold you
the way a garden holds
the fruit it will bear upon
the ripening of the seasons.

and I won’t grasp so tightly or
so loosely that everything clenches
and escapes at the same time. and
I won’t forget the way your fingers
imprint sorrow and happiness in
one touch. I won’t forget you before
I have even met you. I won’t
get thirsty before the water has
found its way.

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Categories: Poetry

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