shortest love poem
I hate waiting—
but for you,
I would make a home
inside the almost.
I like you
in the kind of way
that would worry a therapist
and thrill a poet:
too much,
too quietly,
and somehow
not nearly enough.
I hate waiting—
but for you,
I would make a home
inside the almost.
I like you
in the kind of way
that would worry a therapist
and thrill a poet:
too much,
too quietly,
and somehow
not nearly enough.