the american dream
time and time again,
i lay in bed,
under all the sheets,
and i find relatability.
i see you and i in the art...
when two lovers
are torn apart,
ripped from each other's grip,
yanked at the ankle,
then seemingly dragged away...
having to part and
wishing one another
a sweet and dear farewell,
fighting to hold back tears...
absolutely faced with removal;
when one is picked by
the very hand of God
to be journeying elsewhere...
and the hollowness of knowing
something that was once there
is no longer...
i understand fully.
because in some way,
some slight, miniscule way,
that is us.
every six months
we exist: happy and whole.
then we are pried apart.
separated, severed, uncoupled!
unlike the books and movies,
our situation is of its own.
and i mean that.
as mundane and "normal"
as this sometimes is,
nothing about this is:
quote unquote...normal.
i have fallen
deeply in love
with a man
who is not my own.
across country lines and
through the countless cities
dividing what i know
from what you know,
i have fallen for a man
whom i see
every six months.
because that is
how it has to be.
now i know:
some individuals have it worse.
but i argue: this is my worse.
our worse.
because things can improve.
things can become ideal.
day by day,
the two of us know
we are striving towards this reality.
i will tell you again:
we are going to live a dream.
i swear.
some day in july,
very very soon,
we will be laying out
on a knitted blanket,
watching some kids light fireworks.
we will watch them explode
and witness the sky turn all sorts of colors.
like paint being splattered on a canvas.
we will be quite entertained.
but i will look over
and smile in admiration, with comfort.
after all these years missed,
we will be sharing a day
of celebration and pride together.
one holiday shared,
with plenty more to go.
then i will kiss your cheek
and ask if we should leave.
with that look in your eyes,
i will know what sort of night
you have planned for us.
so at some odd hour,
we will get to our home,
make love like the night before.
then after all the excitement,
we would lay our heads to rest
and i would say:
"look how far we have come."
you're not a little boy anymore.
and i am a woman now.
look at us
being all grown,
sharing a bed and blanket,
paying bills;
not having a care
for the world outside the four walls
we call home.
look at us!
we would close our eyes,
and maybe a few tears
would fall, because...
you know how i am.
so you would say:
"i know baby.
we have come far,
but we have so much
more ways to go."
and that.
that is what we say now.
and it will be what we say
in five years.
in ten years.
in twenty even!
i will be holding your hand
as we begin to perish,
and you know i would say:
"look how far we made it now.
we have nearly reached the end."
but i know you would respond:
"yes, but
we can still go a little more ways."
from two years ago
to today,
until tomorrow...
this is our thing.
i will forever
remind us
of how far we have come.
because i love us so much.
from strangers to possibilities,
then companions to lovers.
and now
my "one" to your "one".
so much progress.
so many stages.
we should be proud.
and i know we are.
because you tell me
what i have told you:
"look,
look how far we have made it."
we don't say it often,
but when we do,
we mean it.
it's like saying
"i love you"
in another way.