maybe ...
maybe
it was the way you splashed words
on the canvas of my thoughts
colours smashing and crashing into
one another until
the whole developed like
a polaroid photograph
the kind you hide from your mother
somewhere under your socks or underwear
or ...
maybe
it was how you blew kisses
across the miles
like puffs of dandelions
drifting off into the clouds
that i somehow caught
with the fingertips
of poetry
or ...
maybe
it was the summer of
camomile teas at your kitchen table
where you sat across from
my broken spirit
and told me
not to take things too seriously
or ...
maybe
it was every hello
you sent me
just so i knew
you were there
just in case
i needed to know
just in case
i needed a reminder
just in case
or ...
maybe
it was the warmth of your heart
finding its way into my heart
and filling the emptiness there
with sensible sound
with a symphony of emotions
that woke me
from the sleep of waiting
for the endless tomorrows
of meaningless
maybes
it was the way you splashed words
on the canvas of my thoughts
colours smashing and crashing into
one another until
the whole developed like
a polaroid photograph
the kind you hide from your mother
somewhere under your socks or underwear
or ...
maybe
it was how you blew kisses
across the miles
like puffs of dandelions
drifting off into the clouds
that i somehow caught
with the fingertips
of poetry
or ...
maybe
it was the summer of
camomile teas at your kitchen table
where you sat across from
my broken spirit
and told me
not to take things too seriously
or ...
maybe
it was every hello
you sent me
just so i knew
you were there
just in case
i needed to know
just in case
i needed a reminder
just in case
or ...
maybe
it was the warmth of your heart
finding its way into my heart
and filling the emptiness there
with sensible sound
with a symphony of emotions
that woke me
from the sleep of waiting
for the endless tomorrows
of meaningless
maybes
