Friday Poetry: "Let's File That Under T, For Things I Love About You"

Happy Friday, everyone! I must admit, I was half-falling asleep the whole day today. This week I really haven't been getting as much sleep as I should be—tests to study for + random bouts of insomnia = a tired Topaz!

Last week my mother proclaimed all of my poems lately have been incredibly sad depressing. At first I protested, but then I realised... actually, she's kind of right. Let’s remedy that with this week's Friday Poetry! It's called “Let's File That Under T, For Things I Love About You”.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone! xx

Let's File That Under T, For Things I Love About You

hey, darling, here’s something
you should know:
I will never be over you.

so here we are, cruising along endless stretches
of highway, a little drunk on love and
a little high on so many firsts,
and I’m blasting taylor swift and you
keep trying to change the station, because
you insist that you hate that sentimental crap

– never mind that you sing to me when
you think I’m asleep, of course, and let’s file
that under t for things we don’t talk about but
you know I know it anyway –

and here we are, sobbing with laughter over
something so trivial we won’t remember it tomorrow,
except I will never forget the sound of you
trying so hard to catch your breath that
you start coughing and almost run the red light,

and we’re young and naïve and
shackled to the idea of freedom, but right now
I am serenaded by the music of you tapping your
thumbs on the steering wheel, just the tiniest bit
off-beat as taylor swift guides us down
this highway to the stars

but darling, you know how to spell my middle name
and I have memorised the angle that your head tilts
when you are confused, and I could write an encyclopaedia
about how it feels to accidentally-on-purpose
brush against your hand on the radio knob, could write
volumes about the smell of summer air and gasoline
and dancing on the pier with you, my feet on yours

– but hey, darling, let’s file that under t for things we
don’t talk about but somehow it’s never mattered, not when
there are belly laughs and cheesy romantic songs and
kissing under moonlight skies, and hey, darling –

don’t you know?
I will never be over you.