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poetry

You and I

There is nothing more frustrating than trying to help someone who refuses to believe they can be fixed. People build connections and bonds over shared memories and secrets, from actions we both remember and don’t. Every relationship comes with tears, laughter, and love. A friend of mine inspired this poem […]

You and I are pieces of glass

Made from colors and sands that surpass

The normal square that a cube usually makes

Because we take on our own, jagged shapes

When I think of us, I think of the ocean

Of dreams and laughter in motion

Of toes in the sand and my head in the clouds

Or of closing curtains and dark denim shrouds

If we were vases, I’d be small and you’d be tall

Stretching shadows far off the wall

Yet never shining that much at all

I’d be blue, and you’d be gold

With some black veins that made you look old

“Antique” is the name given

The name you live in

It’s the tide you sit in

When the ocean’s coming back from its first wave

Your black veins would show a darker inside

How you’re afraid and hide yet try to coincide

With this difficult existent

Please

I’m at your side

Sometimes there’ll be days when you stand

Smile like a jaunty marching band

Playing your song across the sand

Yet refusing to let the heat be fanned

Please

Just take my hand

The world if full of people who cheat and lie

People smiling and simpering with soft sly shines

Slipping through soles of silk

Sipping on sumptuous secrets and snakes

The loft of my shop

However

Is never at stake

So we slide into our comfortable silence

Keep the quiet

Hide inside it

Just you and I

Toes in the sand

No more marching band

But still

Please

Just take my hand

***

There is nothing more frustrating than trying to help someone who refuses to believe they can be fixed. People build connections and bonds over shared memories and secrets, from actions we both remember and don’t. Every relationship comes with tears, laughter, and love. A friend of mine inspired this poem, and he’s been a constant muse for a while. Some of the greatest inspiration comes out of relationships, whether we write in sadness or joy.

By griffalice

A poet, an artist, and an explorer.

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