When I first saw you, you
Your eyes so bright they
stopped me in
a sucker punch to the face
That left me on the ground, shocked
and seeing stars.
I tried to get back up
but you smiled and called me pretty,
so you might as well have kicked me in the gut
and screamed “Not today, bitch!”
The worst thing about it is
I don’t even love you.
I’d like to frame you and put you on my bedroom wall
or keep you on a chain around my neck
(next to my heart)
or slide one of your diamond eyes on my finger,
but not love you.
I can lose a locket or a watch
or a crown or a precious gem,
but not you
and not love.
I can spot a rare bird miles away
but it will always fly off
once I reach for my camera.
I don’t love you so much as I love the air
or my own beating heart.
Nobody wakes up and says
“I sure hope the sun rises today”
But we’d sure as hell notice if it didn’t.
The thing is, you’re not air or sunlight
Because you’re not always there.
You’re more like the eclipse I didn’t hear about
until the night after it came
you’re more like all the wild parties I don’t get invited to
you’re more like every thought I’m either
or too stupid
to make a sentence.
You’re more like a bird
than you are the sun.