I sit across from you,
Smoke in the air clouding our views.
All that we are falls to the floor,
Our story floods, without the lore.
Without the fairytale, laid bare
I can almost hear,
The sound of your heart beating in sync with mine.
I can almost hear the wind whispering, “it’ll be fine.”
I know these times are hard, they’re making us crazy,
But I’m looking in your eyes and seeing maybe.
The air tense with the suspense,
It’s like we fell in love again for the first time.
© Akeem Rowe Kingsinister, 2016