drkrm

Note: I wrote this poem, probably intoxicated, in June of 2014.

This.
It occurs often.
Taking it’s time.
Your face, conflicted.
Mine, understood.
I see past the previous.
Forward.
I am eager.
You are optimistic.
The sun through the kitchen window.
Above the sink.
The sound.
Jazz.
I look at you through an open eye.
It’s enough.
My arm reaches out.
Reels you in.
The same thing.
Sunday.
She’s something else.
Incredible.
And there’s so much more.