I've been trying to perfect this poem for about three hours, and I truly don't think it is going to be any better than the way it is now. This one's a love poem, of sorts, and I'm not entirely sure whether I hate it, but I do know that I don't like it one bit. It's just... not cohesive at all and in the morning I'll probably be editing it to death.
But Friday Poetry must go on, so here we are. See you on Monday, everyone!
Something like a Miracle
you look at me like you are a dark thing lurking
in the shadows, like you want to brew a hurricane
out of the freckles on my skin. I’ve spent my whole
life running away from the rain, but you make my
brain twirl a chemical dance, tipsy on serotonin
and dopamine and adrenaline, drunk on something
that transcends chemical formulas.
I want to say I don’t love you, but one look and
all the buildings I’ve burned to the ground don’t
matter any more. sometimes I trick myself into
thinking that I am not broken, that the marks on
my skin are constellations instead of scars. with
you, it doesn’t feel like an illusion anymore.
my hands are full of question marks. my teeth
are full of ashes. I am caged in the air you breathe,
chained in the space between seconds, and you
inhale time as if it’s yours to keep. I am helpless
in the face of a clock ticking backwards, but
you shine so brightly that I can’t remember
anymore what midnight tastes like.
when my name stumbles off your lips it sounds
like probabilities, like the shattered melody of just
a little while longer. I can almost believe that
maybe love was never a curse, that maybe forever
was never a made-up word, and I’m learning
what it means to sweep away the ashes.
so it’s midnight, so it’s dreaming, so it’s something
like a miracle: your hands on mine and all at once
I think I know the reason why.