your eyes seem to be getting tired -
or at least you think they are.
i can admit, that delicate skin hanging on tight
underneath your familiar eyes sags more these days
but that doesn't mean what you think it means.
you told me today,
that just because it didn't happen on tuesday
doesn't mean that it's never going to happen.
it will, you said, eventually happen.
so you're talking like that,
talking about being away from me for good -
now i need to say this to you:
one time, a few aprils ago, you told me about a cedar waxwing who took refuge from spring winds in your magnolia tree. you didn't know it's name, and neither did i, but you told me about the yellow tail and the crest on her head, you told me with such excitement - we wondered with a fast paced tone, what kind of bird could that be?
that day i knew:
your skin is my skin and no matter what,
we will never be apart.