I don’t have much left
to give or even keep for me.
But I want to give you as much
as I can, with my hands: I want
to make music for you and write
sweet little poems that might make sense.
Or not. I could spent hours with you
doing absolutely nothing. It’s free.
And we could be free. Roam the woods
and the world while holding hands.
I’m not sure why I entertain the thought
that you would ever want me because you
are in the thick of things far more important
than what lives inside my daydreams.
I just want to be beside you and maybe look
into your eyes if I am not nervous.
Then you can see that despite all my bullshit
I am very, very serious about you and me.
Advertisement
