Too Long

If I look at you for too long,
I start to remember the small things
like the way the veins
on your arms pop out just a bit,
the way your bronze skin shines,
the way your shoulders curve over
when you want something.

If I look at your face,
I remember your hands,
your fingers weaving through mine.
I see us instead of just you.
There are beaches
and musicians
and pool cues
mixed up with
hot rooms
and wet docks
and cool cars swirling with sea-salt air
swollen with intentions never fulfilled.

If this is what it’s like
to look at your picture,
can you imagine how it would be
to really see,
feel,
have you here?
I think I would faint
under the weight
of memories kindled
at the sight
of your smile.

~Patience

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