This is a love poem. I know, I know. But when you’re in love, sometimes, you just have to write love poems.
Notes about you for a later piece
And in the lamplight of my room,
I’ll have to open my drawer
and retrieve my writing journal,
because I’ll need to make a note
of an idea you gave me.
An idea we gave me.
And it will take me ten minutes to write down those brief, bulleted notes,
little phrases that will remind me tomorrow
of that which is swelling inside of me now.
It will take so long because after each one,
and think again of you.
Of your skin.
And get lost in a daydream
that lasts until I again glance down
and see my pen
and remember that I am making a note.