loveletter

he trips in too-big rain boots
and he splats into sludgy mud.

he writes
but his storms blur penned thoughts and dye his hands.

he had an old telescope
but it shattered when he found his moon has broken.

he makes his own meals
but they spill down his front.

he plays alone on frisky winds
but finds twigs in his hair.

he discovered a time bomb
but didn't let go soon enough.


he's a mess.


he slips on craggy surfaces
but he grasps my hand before he falls.

he rights
but always makes absolutely sure i believe him.

he had an old telescope
but he realized it's better to see it all with both eyes.

he feasts on extra meatballs
and he slurps his noodles.

he dances alone on summer breezes
but he steers me to laughter.

he explodes from time to time
but he is careful to pick the shrapnel from my veins.


he's a mess...


but he's my mess.