(no subject)

[ebarnetteb]

A hope for every love that is

There is a place between all that is certain,
but far before uncertainty sets in.
It's where a sweater covers your palms
and your fingertips extend,
gracing what you touch with delicate formalities.
April rains and spring suns could do no more for life
than a moist, steamy breath from you
could rid a heart of early morning frost.
The little shudder afterwards reminds me
that we are both much more alive than the dark is black,
color is all there, we just excuse it
for being so loud and obnoxious,
keeping us awake when morning will creep in so early,
keeping us conscious, when no consciousness will do.
Our alarm clocks ring in completely separate worlds,
and silently, we agree to meet at the bus stop of existing.
You find a seat on certain and I'll hold the uncertain pole.
We have become greater than speech.