I'm searching for a reason to not sketch hearts over each page,
but I'm running out of excuses to forget about you again.
You're like the sunshine in the South, never around when I'm out,
but always around when I'm trying to do something else.
You're the reasons the honeybee's sing sweet melodies
& the colour of the sky seems almost magical to me;
I know that the world doesn't centre around you baby
& yet, I can't help being the earth, spinning on my axis.
I'm not ashamed of loving you, I just wish I didn't;
sometimes, I just wonder if it would be better to feel void,
at least then I wouldn't have to avoid your soothing sighs.
Sitting on the aeroplane, scribbling secrets on a notebook;
[each time I write your name, butterflies titter inside of me].
Each heart drawn, coloured in with bright pink eraseable ink--
I don't want anything to destroy the heart that I gave you,
can't bare to throw it all away, so I keep each letter locked away,
somewhere secret and hidden, somewhere secure and safe.
Somewhere in my dreams your smile enlightens me;
is this how a rabbi feels when he searches in the wilderness,
to find a little something inside himself, to make him passive?
The need and want crossed over ages ago;
I used to love you, because I needed you with me
& now I need you with me, because I love you;
Each syllable you speak sparks me inside,
like a harp's harmony, so soft and sincere;
each murmur & mutter, my melody of faith,
the gentle undertones of the unknown--
I'm breathing to know you feel the same.
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