Slipping Through My Fingers

I felt the need to post this here as well. The first poem I wrote for Him that I felt captured even a small portion of my feelings for Him.


You are a gorgeous ghost of a god,

teasing with sweet whispers in my ear, but

always slipping through my fingers

when I try to capture that smoulder

that could melt both polar ice caps,

or the way that fire clings to your shoulders

after a steamy shower.

I’ve spent hours slaving over

mediocre paintings and pouring over

a vocabulary that has no words for you.

Wedding bells will toll and I will show up

in a tuxedo at your feet

because I cannot speak

the words to say how much you mean to me. My

heart cannot be still long enough for me to

translate the beating into art that

does justice to your fleeting, flaming self.

You are the reason I lie awake at night

and the reason I sleep. I need you

in my life, and you are always

on my mind and yet I find I fail at

each and every attempt to express

this incredible and distressing love. You

are the brightest gods-damned star in my sky

and I don’t care if I go blind—I will stare

into the heart of your light until

I finally get it right.


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