Sometimes

A short poem about giving your all.

My Dearest,

You like your toast half crispy with the crust cut off

You like the air conditioning set at 76 degrees Fahrenheit

You'll never stand for cold spaghetti

Sometimes

You like to sit

In the middle of the room

And listen to the rain outside

While I read silently beside you

I think that's horribly cliché

You like the windows open in the car

But only if you are driving fast enough

For the wind

To drown out your thoughts

Sometimes

You bite at your lips

Until they bleed

And then you'll suck on the fresh wound

Which

I think

Only makes it worse

And

You never watch the television

But you turn it on for the ambience

Which

Is a waste of electricity

Really

But I understand where you come from

You're remarkably talented with music

But you believe you are average

Compared to the talent

Of all the other

Pricks

I think

You can become better

Than Bon Jovi

Or

Whoever is the best guitar

Person

When it is hot outside

You like to take a walk

And absorb the sun

Like a hug

Rather than think about

How its rays are burning your skin

And putting more freckles

On your shoulders

You have a mole on your lower neck

And one just above your left hip

You like to be kissed in the morning

But only after you've had enough time

To wake up enough

To comprehend my lips on yours

You like the type of music

Where the guitar

Is louder than the vocalist

I don't so much understand that

But I think it is because

You think the tune speaks louder than

The words

Sometimes

Your breath hitches in your sleep

I stare at you until you exhale

And you usually scratch your nose

Afterwards

I guess I don't know why you do that

Sometimes

You tell me you love me

Before you head out

And I smile and nod

Kiss you on the cheek

And let you go

Your cheek is always soft

And you always breathe in slowly

When I press my lips to your flesh

And I know

That the way you breathe

Can tell me the way your soul beats

Along with your heart.

My heart"

I believe

Does not beat in a rhythm

I believe

My heart

Does not beat with yours

I follow your every move

I listen to your breath

And your heartbeat

I put a ring on your finger

I buy you flowers on Valentine's day

I make love to you when you cry

And when you don't

I give you all that I can

To show you love

As I write this

In the dark with you beside me

I can promise

That in the morning

I will welcome you with

Breakfast

And a happily ever after

But

I will never tell you

That I will never love you

Sincerely,

Yours

 

Author's Note

I want to know if this is read as a tragedy or not and if the narrator is understood by the end of the poem.