3:01 am EST

i could read you a lot of bullshit
about babbling brooks that bubble over with excitement
when the thought of you impedes my mind
and about how my soul sings out from the swelling sea
when i look into your eyes
or about how i want to watch the seasons change with your hand in mine
but i won't because these things won't do
until you're due for them

i myself am humming often now
and yelling lyrically against the whirling winds that come through my car window
as i drive here and there
near and far from you
while you rest
or are doing what it is that you do

i wonder alone, as i wander you
meandering moments of misery and mystery
daily dialogue of disdain and deliberate diction
force a silent aching
but i am quiet
for you
i remain in a state of hopeful hysteria
am i ok?
i haven't a hope for that in this moment
but i will be in the moments you are in my presence
which are my hopes
all of them