What I Carry

What do I carry? What's always with me? You. I carry you: 100 something pounds. I carry your head, arms, legs. I carry the way your eyes laugh with your mouth. I carry the way you flip your hair to look around. I carry the way you don't try hard, but still know your stuff. The way you say my name, Just sound coming from anyone else. Five letters, two syllables become a symphony in your voice. One hundred violins, thirty flutes, A huge drum pounding in my chest. It ends too quickly But rings in my ears. Sweeter than church bells, Softer than cotton candy, Echoing still hours after it's over. I carry my jealousy: 1000 pounds. Jealousy that other girls look at you like I do, Jealousy that you look at them how I wish you looked at me. That I can't call you mine outside of dream I carry my hope: weightless. Hope that you'll ride up on your white horse, Save me from the tower, Kill the fiery dragon, And we'll live happily ever after. But I carry reality: unbearable. The knowledge that you won't. The knowledge that all I'll do is wish, Look, Dream. That's what I carry.