“You are not a real person”
Those were her words
Unpolished, yet whole
Sincere
Nothing more and yet,
Need there be?
Her scent upon my coat
I lie in warmth unrelenting
Pressing luck like flowers
Polaroid stills of perfect sighs
Stuck between clear sleeves
Transparent phrases and gestures
Frozen in time,
Suspended in animation
Of feelings I suppress and deny
Refusing my admission
Heretofore so clear.
“Real people don’t think that.”
Yes. Yes they do,
But they lack the words to express
The feeling of caressing
Your ears with truth.
It is my gift to describe
Exactly how you make me feel
And yours to make it so inadequate.
Moonlit Poetry 