“I like the sound of your fan.”
He said, with his eyes closed and head
Resting on my soft green pillow.
“I could fall asleep.”
“I like the sound of your heart.”
I thought, with my eyes closed and head
Resting on his soft, bare left chest.
“I could learn its song.”
“I’ll let you fall asleep here.”
I said, knowing it couldn’t be
And likely won’t ever happen.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“I like his arms around me.”
I thought, mad at myself again,
Failing at a casual heart.
“Here we go again.”
“I wish. You know I can’t stay.”
He said, but we didn’t budge yet
Waiting for the other to move.
*groan* “I have to go.”
“It will be months ‘fore I see him.”
I remember, telling myself
Not to be a dumb girl again.
“Just be cool, alright?”
So I’m as cool as I can be.
As casual as old jeans and camp shirts while wearing dresses and lip gloss.
And then I wonder: why does wanting more make me the dumb girl?
I know the dice the universe rolled us.
Not an easy way to win, for sure, but I am a romantic.
Why not roll the dice again, and see what’s next?