it was 7am and she was beautiful… (a poem)
It’s 7am somewhere, it’s 7am in my heart until noon.
That time always seems to be the most poetic.
Half the world sleeps as the rest of us make coffee and scribble down our thoughts and dreams.
Looking out the window for the sunrise, can you imagine a 3 hour long sunrise?
I wish the sun and the moon were less predictable.
I wish the world had more wiggle room for absurdity.
Eyes half open, heart still closed, but this time seems to give me hope, a fresh slate, the daylight seems to crack it open.
The quiet of the city streets at this hour lets me listen to the whispers of my heart.
Why does she have to whisper soo quietly?
Why can she scream at me and demand my attention?
Why can't my body tell me what's wrong, but like a newborn baby I am left guessing at it’s whimpers and cries.
So I sit with him again, as I always do. This is our special time.
7am is for lovers.
Lovers of the sun and lovers of the moon.
Lovers of the city.
No matter how hard I try to run away, it’s the one palace in the world that always seems to have time and space for me,
Even though time goes by so fast when we are together, and space is becoming tighter and tighter.
But everytime I come back our love deepens and I wonder if I'll ever be able to leave a romance that leaves so many boxes unchecked?
Perhaps my boxes are changing? Or maybe I'm being put into a box.
Perhaps our boxes are always changing, and to keep up with them is just an illusion.
The city of love, the city of destruction, those who know its kind hand will forever find it hard to walk away, but those that have been shunned by his busy schedule and vip lists will wonder what we ever saw in him.
It's something you have to experience, It’s something you have to surrender to, its a love im learning to let go of.