that when I look into his eyes
I will see no monsters lurking in the depths
that wish to turn my veins to ice
but instead a sea of morning light
with a warm “welcome home” sign the color of autumn leaves
means more to me than I could ever describe in this jumbled poem.
To know his hands
will always be careful
not to tamper with the thin fabric of my heart
that has been torn like the “take one” papers at the corner store
or unlock the diaries in my mind without permission
that hold words such as these
but filled more so with ink stains
that haunt me while I sleep
means more to me than I could ever jot down on this paper.
To know that when he holds me close
his heart beats steadily for the art of love
to tame the monsters of the dark
to sew the fabric of my heart
to hold his breath
or even watch his step
to ensure that I sleep soundly
means more to me
than just a simple poem.
-Peace to the Piano Prince.
Originally Written: 3/27/17