A Simple Poem 

The Aftermath of New York: A Simple Poem

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To know 

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
Revised: 7/6/17