We are more then a midsummer dream, I swear.
We are more then what I have left-
a green shirt with an inside joke that washed off too easily
one blurry photo
a longer-then-it-should-have been note in the pen that never smudged
We are something too big to hold.
Tapping morse code of our own against your knuckles with my thumb
Letting words fall like the summer rain from our lips, staining the pavement sliver
Constellations of mosquito bites across our own uncharted skies
You are the most beautiful before I have ever seen
And the most painful after
And I want nothing more than to feel the during
Without all this liminality
You are my point B.
