I have determined to write a happy poem,
Because you make me happy.
It’s harder than I thought.
The inside of my head is not as pretty
As you, even though I have
Changed the furniture to coordinate
With your earth-made tones.
The room locks the doors,
Looks in mirrors to find you,
Which we both know won’t work.
You’re in the water.
I was not born, but sent.
Have not been aged, rather
Smelted or forged. My flesh was
Left soft and rawly pink
By friction I never wanted to feel.
Should not have felt.
Can’t forget. I tape your pictures
Over the cracks in the walls,
Where I have stuffed
Who knows why I keep this stuff?
(I keep it so that when the house
Falls down, I have an excuse)
You offer to help clean it out.
I have handed you boxes full of
Afternoons, alone in a house save one other.
You look in the boxes as bravely as I (wish I) did.
You cry like I do.
You’re through the window.
We both dream of unlocked clicking
Looking down runways to find you.
Wifi dropped the signal.
We coordinate our adult bedtimes so we
Still change the clocks together.
If you, even though you have seen
The inside of my head, still love me,
Everything is easier than I thought.
You make me happy,
So tomorrow I will write you a happy poem.