abstract

I have found that I would
move my heart from
my chest to my feet for you,
 
because sleeves are
overrated and my feet never
stop pointing to you.
 
You don’t understand
the size of your thighs or
the dip of your waist but I
have traversed every path
on you and
 
I understand.
 
I don’t understand the fact
that I’ve never felt my stomach
curl to imitate the curl of
someone’s smile but
 
you do—
and you love it.
 
Happiness is a lot
of things.
 
Maybe it’s not
objective or
abstract,
 
and maybe we over think
an emotion
 
(as a human being I
suffer the curse of
over-analyzation).
 
I’ve apologized a lot
lately, therefore it’s
only fitting that I
apologize for the
 
erratic
 
rhythm
 
and
 
point
 
of this poem.
 
I can’t decide if I
want to write about
you or happiness
but maybe it’s
because
 
I see you as the same.

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