(I Lie) On My Chocolate-Honey-Iced Tea Escape
(to myself constantly)
beside him, gazing at his profile,
waiting for that moment when his eyes open.
'Cause when they open,
I can dive into them:
my chocolate-honey-iced tea escape.
I'm a gypsy girl of the butterflies,
dancing from freckle to freckle across the bridge of his nose!
I wonder if he can feel me skipping there…
do I tickle?
And when I dive into them,
we're no longer entangled on a standard twin bed.
Cinderblock walls glowing with the blue light cast from an open laptop,
fans whirring in the humidity-laden heat,
the lives of three people packed into a ten-by-ten space―
one of whom snores on the top bunked bed, internally annoyed that I'm there
―linoleum floors that were never intended to witness this peace…
they all fade away.
He tickles me.
He…tickles my fancy!
I can't believe I'm giggling.
My heartbeat races after the tails of shooting stars,
grabbing hold onto a wish and trying to keep up with it
before it passes hope.
Can't let it go!
On my chocolate-honey-iced tea escape,
I'm free falling, I lose myself,
but I catch myself, find myself in the future.
And I wonder if he's followed me
into the vision of his chocolate-honey-iced tea-eyed children,
slapping my thigh insistently, calling "mommy!"
And there's no better sound to my ears.
And there's no wider smile on my face
than the one that stretches across it
as he sweeps our brown sugar baby into those arms I love so much.
His wrist twitches in his sleep.
I know those eyes are about to open.
(When I say I'll be okay if this love falls apart.)
waiting for him to allow me my chocolate-honey-iced tea escape.