To The Person I'd Like to Know

Hey—erm—sorry.

I meant to say hello,

In person—not in this letter—

that’s not to say I don’t hope you get it,

because I do—it’s just I,

I know notes seem in-genuine.

A scripted speech feels no more real,

than the underdog succeeding in an eighty’s film,

but the concept’s still nice.

Agh… I wish this was easier.

But don’t we all?

See, you and me, we aren’t so different.

I know we might not always agree,

and our fits and spats have this sort of irony,

something joyful about them.

An electric burst jump-started my engine—left it humming—

its hotwired spark igniting the radio of my mind.

And the damned thing won’t shut up.

It’s quite persistent—and powerful—actually.

Like the fire pushing a rocket ship through the atmosphere.

Every time I see your jet-black pupils,

they pull me right past your gleaming eyes,

shining from light that rivals the stars.

And then there’s your smile,

just a little perk in the right corner of your mouth.

Like a fishhook caught, that’s why the blood rushes to your cheeks,

Though not painful,

it’d go to your lips, but that hook,

being reeled into the clouds above,

pulls the warm red sense.

Not painful of course

—I’m not saying you’re in agony when you smile—

No God would want to see your crystal tears, fall

to

the

floor.