Attempt

I don't typically write poetry. I tried it a while ago, but it all sounded stupid, so I gave it up. But this hit me a little while ago, since I've been thinking about this a lot. There's no England update today, so I thought I'd post this instead.

Oh, by the way, there's no title to it. I've found that picking a title for a piece is twice as hard as actually writing the thing.

You're doing it again.
That thing that I always hate -
When you creep into my head
And take up all the space I could be using for something else,
Something more productive,
Something less silly.

Sometimes it's the laugh I haven't heard,
Sometimes it's the smile I haven't seen,
Sometimes it's the way your fingers will link with mine.
But whatever it is -
Whenever it is -
It still unearths the same question:
Who are you?

I wonder if I've met you.
I may have known you forever and not known who you were -
What you would mean.
Or maybe you're still waiting,
Trapped in the page of the story that I haven't read yet.
In my head I imagine
What I will say when I realize
I've finally met you as you.
Probably something stupid - I usually do.

But probably I will just hold your hand,
Put my head against your shoulder.
It will be such a comfort to know you've found me.
But for now, I still sit and wonder,
Comparing everything to that thing a long time ago.
Don't judge me for that:
It seemed great at the time.

Will you watch happy movies and not find it weird when they make me cry?

Will you admit that the way I load the dishwasher is better?

Will you cry when our kids are born
And appease my late-night cravings for sandwiches?

What will make you happy?
What will make you sad?
What will make me rub your back and tell you that tomorrow is another chance?
Will you let me say that I'm terrified
Of the future - it has so many grottos and hollows
For tragedy and pain to hide.

Will you let me give up the biggest brownie,
The last slice of pizza,
The comfiest pillow in the house,
The first place in a line -
Just because I'm tickled to death
To have someone to share all that with?

Will you keep arguing with me even when I shut up?
That's the only way that we'll keep going, you know.

My world is full of mysteries right now.
I don't pretend to have everything figured out
And I won't act like it doesn't scare me.
But as far as you're concerned,
Know that I think about you a lot.
And I can't wait to meet you.

Whoever you are.