UNTITLED TYPEWRITER POEM NO. EIGHTEEN

18

Despite all I am
and all I have done,
I am
and have done
nothing without you.

My sights are unseen,
my voice goes unheard,
my touch is unknown
until I have you
painting my visions,
transcribing my words,
absorbing my skin.

Our love will be real.
Our lives will be whole.

In worse times, even,
wait for cleaning rain,
wait for less thunder,
wait for warmer wind.

All storms come and go,
and the final cloud
takes darkness with it.
There, below, we sit
with leftover rain,
the sounds of silence,
and each other’s hands.

I have and I am
all I have wanted
and all I can be
because you are there.

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