Dandelion

I’m gonna let you sweep me off my feet.
I’m gonna turn our nights into love poems.
I’ve had so many gay love poems built up
if each one passed my lips
I’d be able to fill your life with kisses.

Your chest holds on to a little too much
and I’m pretty sure mine has a hard time with this stuff
even when it comes to you.
My heart has always been a little near-sighted—
every time I see you is as excited as our first date,
with the arcades bling-blinging
and our never-ending chit-chatting;
He’s the type of guy you store up all your smart tidbits for,
the type who still looks perfect
in the ugliest chair in the house.

I know sometimes we feel hopeless
like a piggy bank at the dollar store,
but every day I still want you
the same way dandelions pray for the wind
to dance in the sun.

But we’re not the grounded type.
We’ll never get planted,
we just keep reaching for each other in the darkness,
like the ocean reaches for the moon
for a little guidance.
I know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing either.
We don’t see a map in the stars
just the light trying to peek into our nights.
I’ll let you have all my nights
if this becomes love and not war.
I’d rather fight every battle with you in my trenches,
because knowing that you could be happier with someone else
turns my body into a wrecking ball.

I’ll let you break my heart anyway,
if that’s what it comes to.
I’ll kiss you every day
in case someday I never get to kiss you again.
But most importantly
I’m gonna steal one of your t-shirts
as a trophy
and along the hem I’m gonna embroider
“Love was here”
once.

About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
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