I'll Come Back

~

I want love.

When it's the right time.

Not when it's the right age because who am I to say that love will dance across my shoulders at 2 o'clock in the morning the dawn I turn 18, or when I turn gracefully through 30 years, seasons I couldn't even begin to count.

Love will find me...only the man in the sky knows for certain.

You're just a friend now, but you ask me what this kind of love is- and what it consists of. What it will be and remain.

I beg myself to really understand.

The truth? I don't know!

Historians can cite love as a lust or as an entrapment that takes struggle and heartache and sometimes lack of honesty. But I begin to wonder. I wonder what the lexicographers do when ink dries up and nothing more can be "invented"......I wonder fiercely how the linguistics majors face the truth and conclusion that love cannot be described.

I still have an amorous itch to grab all the dictionaries, in every language, in every print, and read what it proclaims as secrets now told. I want to steal away, touch with the backs of my palms the real words and taste the diction-the gumption- "love" holds. I've never done it, but someday I will.

Because this "love" is scared, more than the world could give it credit for. It's inside all of us. It's something I am just beginning to enter but have heard since the millisecond I was conceived.

Love.

Love?

Do you think it's a question? I mean, have you ever searched for it yourself?

Can you find a picture book kind of answer with it? Like Noah's ark and the animals harmonizing for they knew they would be spared and created anew.

Do you look for love in notebooks, notebooks you cherish more than childhood diaries? Notebooks that are filled with memories invisible to the rest of the people who see life in black and white and don't mention that grey has much more tongues in color

if they just believe.

Love?
Does it really empower the senses or is it just my mind swimming with drama and piano keys I'm pounding on... for nights are cold.

Love.
Not even realizing the imagery of emotions.

Love:
Sunsets. Houses with dust crawling and skimming 'neath photographs 'cause we've been too busy traveling time and drinking in the world ourselves

swirling inside waltzed tea cups, lovers who needed no sugar for sweetness to become

tangible.

We cocooned together like mugs, not copying handles and fingers, but warming each other- beaches and sandcastles already our tributes though we haven't even picked out our futures yet.

Look darling

See the world we will make.

For when I do find you,

I will try my best to never let you go...

but if the world tries to separate us, pulling apart our reasons for unity like one unties tennis shoes meant for running and not falling....
if the world commands us to sink our heads into doubt's lagoon and to take away any hope we have for each other....

I'll still come back to you.

I often hear families talk of love being a hobby or craft made to be pushed under the table like a stolen set of cards. Love doesn't want to win by secrecy though. Do you believe it was made for cheap gambling and those random hearts? It is much more than diamonds and aces and spades choking over each other for the winning number. Love, it fights. Not for the sake of drawing cards and declaring who will be queen but for the sake of true and utmost sacrifice.

If I am not your everyday sun, If I am not the person you desire to rise to each morning, If I am not the mountain that makes your laugh lines calmer and a little bit more lucid, If I am not meant to be yours......

you will leave without me.

But if you want me.
If you call for me.
I'll always come back to you.

Each moment swans race away because they just cannot admit their necks have intertwined for two seconds into eternity.

I'll come back to you.

Each moment when piano notes end and I have no more paper, words to transcribe, blank sheets to roll over onto ink, numbness pooling over, I'll somehow still compose for you.
Even if it may be sharps and flats instead of those clear, crisp white keys we know so well...

I'll come back to you

For love is a world in itself foreign to me. I have not yet stepped inside its boundaries nor crossed its spine fully, satisfying in the reassurement that days can last forever

when you have destiny at your side.

Love does exist when the heart is weak.
Love still pursues,
as I will do.

I will pray, whisper to my knees to be on the ground no matter what or who lies before me. My soul is waiting.....

only time can tell.

So whenever the angels place a halo across my path,

a halo no one else can easily place their fingertips on or take Polaroid pictures of,
whenever my ears can ascertain the divine glory
that this melody will keep breathing

and my heartbeat will be your rose withstanding thorns and heavy winters and dusk serenades

I'll come back to you.

Always.

[Written: September 22, 2012 by M.A.S.
Last edit: October 25, 2012]

- This is a poem about love I wrote for recitation in speech. Thanks for reading!