your face reminds me when i was old

i’ll write about the sounds of your heart and how i synced my heart to your rhythms… tonight the options are spread out before me, wondering if i should confess to you or just continue pretending that i won’t be aching for you and just stay silent staring deep into your eyes

i’ll write you in soft lines, and tell the world how my boy is so bright and smart with warm heart and pouty lips.. and how i wanted him since so many moons but was stopped by subtle fears and that he has someone else.

i want to talk to you about mysteries of old and of life, of me and that i’m not quite dull or stoney. i want to tell you that i’m not shy but that i want you to shine with your eyes so blue and so bright.

i want to tell you that i lost my youth along with the boy i loved with my all and all i have left are my eyes that are old in thousands of years.

i want to tell you that life happened and it happened a lot, and that we can share stories about spouses in each of our nests.

but lover, i got old and my life is at an end and i’m alone with no partner, dipping my toes in a lake full of memories and scribbling unfinished dreams in journal after journal.

then i found you, even before i noticed you, and my heart tells me you are mine, but i’m too old and wise to realize that it’s just a li’l dream of mine.

my story is ever so simple and wise, i just wove my heart into yours and threaded myself into your eyes and may be you’re my distraction or my lifeline.

maybe we don’t fit together right now but who knows, i may get to be your long-lost wife or a lover for a night or five.

i’m not sorry that i show you my eyes, and that i bare you my soul with inks so blue and fine and maybe you’ll give me a clue or two and maybe one day you will be mine.


Title credit: Telefon Tel Aviv

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