Enamored with you

I was trying my best to comprehend things but too soon does my comprehension turn into over analytical questions that the silence in my mind can’t seem to answer.

The beauty in the lie of your “I’m Sorry’s” and the promises of your smile sends a rush of mixed emotions to a chakra I don’t believe has even been named.

We’ve acknowledged far too many times my dopeness…

I can submerge myself into a sea of your sins and and will still wash up blameless…

I’ve lost count of my contemplations and redirected my reverence to the sunshine of my own smile and the certainty of my eyes…

I’ll admit most of my own misery is mental but the cascade of the emotional rollercoaster – see me, I’ve coasted as passenger, but considering the direction-you’ve driven…
my fingertips have memorized your blueprint…
My tongue has intrigued your excretions…
My body has rode every climax you’ve ever authored in the story book that lies between my thighs…
I crave your affection-
Your love language is so bold but so silent. Where has your exuberance gone?
Your fair weather frustrations should be tamed.

Our collisions leave me wounded, but when love is on obese you main entree’ me even if your fingers wander to always open smorgashboards of defiled snacks..

I wish you would let me fill you.
1095 days later I still claim the 6 foot and change of seldom embrace.. I wish you would be ½ the man I know you are.

I try so hard to remind you that I’m not your girl, I’m your woman and if I can’t be the edifice that produces nothing but what brings you joy- everything that brings you 3AM sit ups with bright eyes and a heavy heart that gives you daydreams of all of our “1st’s.”

I want to be the vibration to your cellphone that makes your thumb memorize the passcode and takes you to a screen labeled “Her”, “Wifey”, or some other reference that would make a bystander smile, a family member question the wedding date, and a side bitch vamoose. A caller ID picture away from making anything ill advised gives you convictions and any drunk text making me the recipient.

I am so enamoured with you!

If nothing else makes sense, just know that I am enamoured with you.
-Christin Coleman