Vision

I turned a blind eye
to all the love he felt for me:
movie-like phrases soothing
my insecurity; the way he'd look at me
with such softness in his eyes, the same
that were hardened by childhood;
the way he let me call him awake each morning
because he noticed the giggles in my words.

I turned a blind eye because I never believed
in love, all for myself, I never believed
that two ships could pass each other at night
and flare all-knowing signs of light,
with the hopes of meeting again.

But he's clouding me with vision these days.
I see no poetry in my poetry, anymore,
but everything about him is poetry.
Everything is beautiful
if he's there,

even me.

15-12-2014
10:47 PM