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Sometimes I wish I could just press a button
and go forward and forward and forward
and skip all this in between static screen
predictable unpredictability--the waiting
so I'll be able to spend my life with you
and not have to wait to do so because
I know we will get there eventually
and the waiting has some perks but
really I just want to be with  you now and then.

But I guess I'm just impatient because
I'd also like to slow moments down
and live them over and over and over
in slow motion to catch all your nuances
and curves and sighs and laughs and kisses
and touches and freckles and embraces
in slow motion slow slow motion
because then it lasts longer
and tastes sweeter in remembrance.

If I were really ambitious at times
I would just stop everything and
put it on pause so I could look at you
up and down and up and down and
memorize you so that when I'm gone I could
still feel your skin under my fingers and
your lips against mine and your hair
in my hands and my fingers in yours
and your chest rising and falling
as we both drift off into our synchronized sleep.

But I have no remote and you are still there
and I am still here and I still want you
and want you forever and ever and ever
and I know I can wait until we begin
our lives again and everything
that right now is temporary will
no longer be and I won't have to write
poetry about missing you because I
will be able to nuzzle my head into your neck
every morning of every day.
©2009 ~sporkingitup
:iconsporkingitup:

Author's Comments

Parts of this have been stirring in my mind for a while
but I always forget them because I think about it right before I go to sleep.

So I started with what I remembered and the rest just came tumbling out.

I still haven't written the other poem that's stuck in my head but I can't really remember that one because in mid-thought I drifted off into sleep.

I feel twitchy.
For JB.

Comments


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:iconsibilantesses:
I like the format of this. I don't really know why. It just fits nicely.

--
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.

-e. e. cummings
:iconsporkingitup:
me too.
I also don't really know why. But I think it's because it feels like it's in fast-forward and that's what the beginning of the poem is about? maybe?

I can't analyze myself. Ha.

--
Mufasa? I thought that bitch was dead!

Check out :The Writers Nook, and Word Count. Good communities for writers!
:iconsibilantesses:
Haha. I could analyze you if I didn't feel like you'd analyze me analyzing you. Er.

--
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.

-e. e. cummings
:iconsporkingitup:
Ha. Which I would probably do.
Because it would prove interesting as to the opinions that drove the analyzation.

--
Mufasa? I thought that bitch was dead!

Check out :The Writers Nook, and Word Count. Good communities for writers!

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January 20
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