i’d forget to tell you in the morning

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.