This isn’t a poem… it’s a love note from last year.
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AN ODE TO THE DAMNED MARSHMALLOW
The overriding presumption in my heart and my eyes and my head is that we will be together, from this moment on, constantly.
Not suffocating or limiting constantly, but brazenly with moxy and fervent love and positive attitude constantly.
And when you wish to be alone and calm in your own space, of course you will have it.
But I constantly assume I shall see you… and it is a night like this that I must!
A night like this that is cold and worrisome in that you may look to fetch yonder panties and the spell of the marshmallow will lure you away from my capable arms and smile. I pray it isn’t a second.
I pray you are not so easy to stray from my grasp and my image.
Don’t you cast your curse on me (in your love for her) you silly marshmallow.
COME TO ME MY LOVE! I know it to be true, nightly, that this will be.
But tonight, I sit cold and alone and wary and weary and quivering lip in anticipation of your arrival, thinking that cursed marshmallow has put you, and this to rest.
Fight hard, I think to myself…. And I shall see you soon.
I love you sweetheart.
Moral of the story:
I assume we are going to see each other every night.
And when we don’t, a little piece of me drifts alone into history.