Two Can...

I may be blowing conch shells,

writing your name with mine,

choosing the place

where we would get married.

I may write words of flattery,

create swords of despair,

wipe away continents of diagrams,

as I smile from ear to ear,

walk on toe to toe, as you lift me up

with one finger,

and you watch how I imagine

flying my days into a starry future.

I also listen to words never said,

I know the vanity and the mischief

in playing that game where you always win

I understand that game very well,

So I'll let you believe you're winning.

I feel the boredom of the finger

that plays a new theme every day.

I smile at your followers,

each trying to open the rigid, rusty box,

the one without a key, only a hidden button

I'll build that dream for you,

and before you shatter mine,

I'll remind you that yours

is just as real as the water crashing

on your window sill every time,

the puddles seeping and building through

latches promised to be trustfully airtight.