Saturday 25th February 2012 12 33am

I wish I were the cream you massage on your face so that I would be able to caress your cheeks and penetrate everywhere. I wish I were the lotion you spread on your body so that I would be able to explore the different world under your skin, seeping and clinging and etching and memorizing—a world where I would need no map because it would be a world beautiful to be lost in and never resurfacing. I wish I were the replacement of your toothless comb, so I would be the one untangling the knots in your soft hair and play with it when I think that you are not looking. I wish I were your glasses so that I would be able to closely gaze at your eyes without feeling bashful and cowardly; I would be the one perched on your freckled nose to choose what you see and what not. I wish I were the mirror you try to avoid on your way out the door, so I would somehow tell you how lovely you look and how I want to shatter because of your melancholy eyes that sees everything. I wish I were the half-drained black pen you hold, so I would be literally in your hands—my heart and my fate and everything cliché. I wish I were the dog-eared, paperback book you fall asleep with underneath the willow tree, so every time you inhale the printed words I am included, circulating through your four ventricles, surging through your bloodstream, to your fingertips and toes.  I wish I were your red tattered sweater, so I would be able to provide you with infinite sunsets and sunrises and protect you at all times, clinging to your small frame like a life-vest preventing you from sinking and drowning. I wish I were your favorite emerald dress, so I would make you feel marvelous and wonderful and beautiful and incredible and euphoric and all the adjectives out there that will never suffice as to how you truly are. I wish I were your blanket, so at night I would wrap myself completely around you, engulfing you away to a world of warmth and tranquility where nothing is ephemeral. I wish I were the perfume you spray, so I would linger around you like a mist everyday, only fading down the shower drain. I wish I were your cracked coffee mug, so every morning I would finally be able to place my lips upon yours, nestled in your palms, exchanging breaths, in and out.

sometimes i like to write in a love-sick boy's perspective ramblings Things I Write at Midnight When I’m Supposed to be Sleeping 

Posted on Saturday 25th February 2012

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