Posts tagged #Romantic

outset (n).

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Remember who we were
when this first started
when my hair was short and you
didn’t want to like the city?

In those first days we spent hours
sizing each other up and
holding ourselves in -
I kept most of everything to myself
and still
felt like I was flooding you, you were
a fortress, air tight, no clues
to the matters of your heart except
maybe
in the gentle way you sat next to me.

Remember when, it was spring,
you walked me home and I
didn’t know that this was you
opening your door to me,
that this was us
falling in love, walking a flat tired bike
down Palmerston in June.

architecture (n).

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You brought over brick and mortar
so slowly that I didn’t notice
in the hours between night and morning
you were making for me a home
in the softest part of you. Slowly you
brought over stone and slate
and built for us a landing place
while I lay sleeping or while
I was running late or while I took
time in the burrows of my mind. 

You brought over clay and solid beams
and made for us a shelter, complete
with a skylight to let the
stars and the morning in.
 

semantics (n).

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I am learning about
the way you say things, like how
"are you ready to leave my house?" means
"I'd like it if you stayed longer," and
"I made you this meal," means
"this is how I can take care of you," and
"are you comfortable laying
beside me as you are" means
"I like your proximity to me."

If our language is born out of
the land we came from, then
where is this place that taught you
to speak in code, to hide
your longing in the folds
of your punctuation, to leave
your softness to your glances, 
your affection in the care of
straightening the collar
of my jacket before I go?

My language is that I know how to say everything
and your language is the sonata we play
to keep us calm on the drive back into the city. 

define (v).

What is love except
my name on your lips
turning to honey

your face in my mind
when I need light

my heart on your sleeve
kept for your keeping

your hand in my hair
anchors my worrying

my letter on your shelf
creased from revisiting 

Your eyes on my eyes
reaching to find me 

my laugh in your smile
I'm warm when I warm you

Your breath on my shoulder
as another day ends. 

flip (v).

You're sort of taking
the easiest thing in the world
and twisting all the cables
with your worried mind. 

You're sort of taking
the magic out
of our bikes along Queen Street
and bad iced tea in the car. 

You're sort of taking
a long time to realize
there's actually nothing to fear here
and we could hurry up and maybe be

kind of great. 

eavesdrop (v).

I didn't hang up after we made our plans and said goodbye just to see what you do in your quiet. It was four seconds before the call cut out, you sang-whispered under your breath, I bet while tapping the steering wheel with your pointer finger. It was four seconds and nothing much but made me see that even when you're alone I like being with you. 

study (v).

In the morning when we start to wake
I trace your outline with my hands
like when we were kids, we learned to draw like that. 
I am taking note
of the spine that holds you up
and the skin that holds you in
of the map of the lines of your brow
and the purse of your lips when you look at the clock.

And then, my head on your ribcage
your heart in my ear
and all the way through me.
We learn to feel, like that.