i’d forget to tell you in the morning
that i have red blotches on my right arm because a gnat received its dinner in the night.
it seems trivial, but
wouldn’t you want to know?
i’d forget to tell you in the morning
i have a noise machine box from a store in the shopping mall that plays me sounds of ocean tides
and how sometimes, i dream of pink hues of our time together
it’s a far fetched fantasy,
but you never know.
i’d forget to tell you in the morning
how i believe in you every single moment
and that all i want
is for you to know everything would be safe with me, but i’d still wonder sometimes
if i’m a waste or a faraway whisper in your daily sea of
who knows what? i wish i’d know of the terrible things, the tiny things, and the other things.
and even go so far as to organize your worries
like a sock drawer
i’m not romantic with words
i’d forget to tell you in the morning.
i’d remember in the morning
to let you know i love you
and sometimes (like right now)
i’m really unsure of myself
but i’m glad you wandered in
would you stay if i-
made you tea in the corner
and read you which ever words you needed at night.
i’d remember to tell you in the morning-
it’s going to be all right.