meaning to be

when you sat on my lap for the first time,

like the weight of the world falling into place,

like gravity has her own plans:

lighting a paris to orbit you,

ashing a delhi to orbit me,

tarring the windpipes in between,

her sisyphean desire rolling free.

you’re everything i want to say out loud,

of course you hate poetry-

i’ve been meaning to be,

but i can't figure how,

no lonely way out,

an eternal inside,

spilling only to cry.

you're everything i lose,

to infidel memory,

to the indifferent winds from kota to surat,

to every anxious party i crash,

to every line you don't understand,

to the objects that disappear when i leave the room,

to the hungry cats & aching dogs,

to a feeling i remember on your grandmother’s bed,

to a fear i remember in a desperate mall,

to a hurried conversation with little explanation,

to the thoughts i’m saving for when i’m older,

to the promise of time & luck,

to god, to materials, to money, to little devils,

to the greatest gay novel we’re writing in our gay little heads.

& a pathetic poem long attempt,

to tell you i miss you,

to tell nobody i miss you,

to say it & be it,

meant, to be it,

meant to be,

to us.