The Overture

A boy found me

Who is good

And adores me

Who reminds me he is thinking of me

Every morning

And every night

He is not built

From the same bricks as I

But if I gave him the materials

He would sure as hell try

To make the pieces fit in a way that made me smile

In a way that let me know

He could stay for awhile

And if I said he didn’t tickle my heart

I would be a goddamn liar

I’d be remiss to say there isn’t

A tiny fire

I could stoke it

Protect it

Someday grow it big and strong

But something about that

Would always feel wrong

Because when the last one left

I stared at my reflection a long time

Wondering how I had fallen in love again, with a mime

I took inventory of all the beauty that I am

All the strength, the joy that I can bring

I forced myself to stop

And listen to my own heart sing

It was a hopeful melody

That could go on and on

A saucy mix of silly, happy, and brawn

But laced in little trills of disappointment, of fear

That a song like my own, my heart would never hear

I listened long and hard

Memorized the notes and the beats

I know she could sing lifelong, one of her most beautiful feats

But I promised her I would find it

The syncopated song

The heartbeat and the rhythm

With which she yearned to belong

So now I cut us lose at trills

Quaint and cute, to be sure

Because as much as I like this accelerando

I’m looking for The Overture.

Reviews

[adornoscousin]

I love the metaphor of bricks. What are we made from? Atoms, hopes, bricks and disappointments? Your poem gets at this.