"And so we do..."

It's so common as human beings for general and generic small talk to occur.  Statements such as "I like your shirt." or "Those are some nice earrings." are so common, but we miss the real messages behind it all.  And I wondered how it would be if people actually communicated these small instances of beauty to eachother.  How nice it would be for someone to come up every once in a while and say to you...

 

I like YOU.

As a person.

In your finite flesh,

trembling on the inside though you may be.

As if we don't see that you're more afraid of scars than the people that actually leave them.

How your arms are like doors with rusty hinges on them because they never quite open up all the way to let people in.

How your fingers grow loose when you're trying to hold onto a handshake because you're too busy trying to hold onto our attention longs enough for us to notice that it's hard for you to hold onto ANYTHING.

How you walk...

As if no one would notice it if you tripped over your own tongue right now.

The way your hair falls.

The pertainance between your breathing and the last time you cried over something more than the ending of a movie,

how your mouth doesn't seek water before you speak because you don't feel your words are alive anymore,

how if I died, right now, and became casket trash, you would label it as an interesting day instead of changing your life even though you TOO know how easily good people die.

How you look at us through dryness.

How you break your eyeballs against the world trying SO HARD to see the beauty in it.

How you stop...

And breathe...

As if SOMETHING someone said made you go "Hmm..." just long enough for you to refind your attention span right before drifting off into a thought about how my lungs can carry so much debris and dust for me to cough up this trash with these symbols breathed back into it from the times I TOO cried...

Over something more than the ending of a movie.

I like you.

I like you because you don't know the miracle you are.

You are like turning air into gold and I would cry over you too if that concept wasn't from the ending of a movie.

I like you because one day you are going to die and almost nobody will second guess it and yet you're OK with the morbidness in the hands of death in the decay of beauty from the moment that you began to think that there was nothing left in this life for you.

You...

Are made up of ninety-percent of particles known as stardust and you live under a sun that will one day heat and pressurize itself into a planet sized diamond and yet you do not try to touch it.

And yet you act like you don't find home more in the mouth of the sky than the mouth of other people.

I like you because you know self-control in the way you hurt yourself to make sure others can't.

I like you because you remind me of the beauty in pedantic world,

you are a rose petal on concrete.

The wedding ring at the other end of a blowjob.

And most of all...

My highness...

My liege...

And to whom I am forever indebted for this presence...

I like you because you don't know how to like yourself sometimes...

I saw it in the way you stopped.

As if you thought...

That this broken open hermit actually had something...

ANYTHING...

To offer you.

Reviews

[AK]

Very nice poem! Your style of writing is very different.