Dec 2014

We share a dream,

a hope,

of a little tiny house

with a basement

and knives not sold in a set.



Of a dog and a car

and a bed on the ground,

and being a little late on the monthly rent.



Of goodbye kisses

when you'd leave for work

and I'd be off to school.

Of watching snow

off our back patio

and sneaking into the neighbors pool.



Of borrowing each others flannels,

and kissing our noses

and drinking tea in springtime

before I prune the roses.



Of our morning coffee,

yours black, mine sweet,

and I'd still make fun of you

for the way that you eat.



For fights about vinyl

and paint and a movie,

but not about the things

that you shouldn't have done to me.



So we want that,

we both do,

and here's where it stinks

is that you ****** it up

in our fight after drinks.



And I know you regret it,

and I'm sorry to say

that sometimes apologies

don't cut it that way.



I miss you, I do

and you miss me too,

and I want our little house

and our dog and you.



But you put her name

above mine on the list,

and if you asked me a month ago

who I would want to kiss

to you I'd be true

but it wouldn't be me,

if they instead asked you.



We share a dream, a want and a need

for places colder,

for dirt and for skiis.

Of snow caps and pine trees

and people to leave.



But I don't trust you,

with my heart or my mind

and while I still really like you

I can't decide

if it's worth all this trouble

you've shook up in your wake

If your the one with the heart

or the one with the stake.

