when I’m not thinking about anything at all,
is when I think of you.
tied to my heartbeat, I can hear you thunk and thud in my chest.
Maybe you’re not the person you were,
when I first really looked at you, the first time I saw you like a dying man sees another sunrise and a wolf sees the moon.
In a different life,
maybe I wouldn’t notice you, slide my eyes over, silk over skin.
But I know if I heard your voice or held your hand
I would recognize you in the way I can understand poetry in a language I don’t speak,
maybe not with my eyes but with my soul and maybe that’s more important.
I wonder if there’s an expiration date on the sweet slicing I can feel inside my ribs,
if I’ll ever stop putting you in my prayers, somewhere towards the end but,
god knows the right order anyways.