the way
eyes- twitch. moments
when they pass
like a past that won't stay
away
and it's almost
laughable.

the way a human
has the capacity to- long.
for something
that was never there
at the start.

but
it feels like
the start. hasn't really
hit.
because this
makes me wonder
if before -her
there ever was- a this.

and I taste
future.tense
in dream state. like
longing
only- I need
something more than
a metaphor
to convey
what .she. makes
someone like me
feel.

so I write
in short words.
because my fingers
tremble far too much
when I try
to write of love
and the way
her words
make me
feel.

so I stumble
through poetry
like a drunken stupor
and I lay here
in bed.
and hope that
these words
can pull love
from those
eyes of hers.

because
I long.
for that which
I have never
felt. but-

she.
through these words.
and wires
and pages upon
pages- of
something like
poetry.

she.
has every bit
of me.