Metaphors

I have so many goddamn metaphors for you. 
It’s adorably annoying. 
I wanted to start this poem with a metaphor about rain in the desert. 
Or something about using punctuation to remind me to breathe like you breathe next to me when you’re settled in sleep. 
But see the thing is
I could compare you to a million different things and while they would be accurate,
They still wouldn’t accurately reflect
Exactly how I feel. 
Some days I’m really annoyed with the fact that when I’ve reached a lulling place in thought
I start thinking about you. 
And just how good that makes me feel. 
And yes annoyed is the right word
Because the thought of you
Directly impacts the memory of how desperately I tried to keep my head above all this emotion. 
I didn’t find you because I was looking. 
Believe me you were the last place 
I thought I’d find a piece of my heart. 
Because I’d blocked and barricaded
Thrown up walls and shielded myself
From the flood
Of grief that the idea of love gives me. 
I’ve got so many fucking metaphors. 
I’d built up this idea that love is a metaphor for disappointment. 
For pain. 
For hurt. 
And in you I’ve found
Joy 
And comfort
And intimacy
On levels which I had forgotten were actually real to begin with. 
I don’t know if this is love. 
I know it’s like. 
For sure for sure. 
And I know how I feel
When you look at me with that sideways snarky grin on your face. 
And when I think about how I want to fall asleep
I know it’s next to you. 
I’m not exactly sure what the next days weeks or months might bring. 
Hell I don’t even know yet how this whole thing plays out. 
I just know 
that you make me feel like writing metaphors for hope 
instead of writing
Metaphors 
For
Sorrow.