Floating in the seams of her dark blue robe.
Small, she is so much bigger on the inside.
When I dive far below, she'll bring me up,
And I am aware I should no longer hide.
A rekindled thread of those who refused to die.
A little boost for the ones with no wings to fly.
And I used to think it was the moon.
I used to think I dreamed of her just because,
I used to think those dreams were all in vain
And I used to think she was unreachable forever
While I was just afraid to face her once again
She is the one you can never forget, even if you try
Even though she signs her name differently each time
As if she had been on a constant run.
April 21st, June 20th and July 05th, 2016
This is not a lesbian poem, I'm not obsessed with a woman. The character the narrator talks or refers to in these poems is grammatically and affectionately female - it's complicated. We all have one of those. I pity those who don't, actually.