My problem is that I
love so deeply.
I start to believe that every
relationship will be
my last, even
if it’s only my first.
But on the contrary,
I cut people out of my life
without telling them
I’ve done so.
I love everyone but
can only stand a select few.
That’s my problem.
My problem is that I’m
so busy wasting all my love
on you — where is
the rest of it?
I gave you the best of it.
Maybe I shouldn’t
You still ask me sometimes to tell me everything about me,
and from the start I have wondered,
if you knew everything, how things would turn out to be.
I told you all my silly jokes,
but could never tell you why I hid my hands in my oversized cloaks.
You have come to know of all my silly habits,
but you don’t know why I love your dusted jackets.
We’ve talked all about our favorite shows,
but never did I mention my love for the smell of the summer damask rose.
You know that I like to talk about galaxies,
but I seldom mention my stories about rainy days and yellow taxis.
I told you I write poetry,
but didn’t mention I write only when in love, heartbroken or simply lonely.
We’ve spent hours talking by the pinball machine,
but you don’t know that crying before sleep is a simple routine.
You know about my love for books and flowers,
but you don’t why I think of the past in the late hours.
You smile when I talk about my love for rain,
but i’m sorry I can’t talk about certain pains.
And I know you wonder sometimes if you even have a simple clue about the parts of me that have forever been stained in blue;
and i’m sorry I am this way and there are times that I just don’t feel okay,
and I often feel sad for the things I haven’t told you,
yet there’s no one who knows me quite as well as you do.
Because I think there are things about me
that you have figured out
that I myself didn’t know about.
So, here, with discretion
I shall answer your question,
you know me well enough
for me to be in love.
The way I want to live with you We will be two pairs of opposite feet, You told me you wanted to marry me in the rain. And the day we say I do, I hope it pours just the same,
will not be in any way gorgeous.
It will be ugly,
stale, out-of-bed kisses
that taste like all the dreaming
we didn’t do last night;
dirty hair, greased with the oil
of a well working mind too late at night
and art projects we’re too inspired to stop.
stepping on each other’s toes in the kitchen
doing terrible impersonations
of what we think is dancing.
We will watch the wind come in from the harbor
like two old souls wiser than the years
leaves us white, and wet, and sopping
so that we know with every inch of that aisle
that we feel this more with every second,
soaking into our skin,
and our smiles will be the only light rising;
the sun and the moon meeting for the first time
where not one person will call this disaster,
but all of us will say mess,
and we are, and I think it’s the most beautiful thing.
The way I want to live with you
We will be two pairs of opposite feet,
You told me you wanted to marry me in the rain.
And the day we say I do, I hope it pours just the same,