Still

I stay awake because I want to see if our world is going to be here in the morning.
Stay up with me, till our sun makes his appearance,
till our sky melts apart,
till our legs are tired of walking,
till I work up the courage to kiss you.
We make sure to tie our shoe laces; on ordinary days.
to put on our Sherpa jackets, on ordinary days.
to take a photograph out and write good words on the backside; postcard style.
What did you need to hear?
While its still black outside, before the stars slowly wander away,
what is it that you wanted to say?
When you speak, I listen. Please. Speak. I never ask;
But. Your mouth creates storms that tear down my walls.
But. Your hands make me believe in silence.
In my head, I'm wondering if there are spaces to grow,
to take care of our bodies, to nourish our laughter
to decide that tomorrow morning, if it really does come,
will not be as amazing as this fire we are sitting beside tonight.
I want to believe that is true,
inside my vertebrae, where it keeps me upright.
inside my lungs, where it keeps me alive.
What is foolish?
I watch your eye lashes as sparks shoot up into the sky.
What is foolish?
We spend days just painting on rowboats; and each others palms.
What is foolish?
If we are truly going to die.
If this is all permanent like a dream.
What is foolish?




Andrew Tipton