by Tyler B. Ruff
by Tyler B. Ruff
eBook building frustration.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind greeting cards
"Random thoughts for Valentine’s Day, 2004: Today is a holiday invented by greeting card companies to make people feel like crap."
I bet so.
I am going to annoy you.
There are going to be days where,
despite my better judgement,
I will insist that I am right
for far too long
and with much too much fervor
for something of so little significance.
There will be days you’ll not think me so clever
days you will have nothing to do
with my dour moods;
days you’ll want to drag my introversion
screaming from my bones
and force-feed it life by the spoonful
till it warms to your ways
like a gin-happy drunk
and I will want to shut the doors on everything
and sulk in the dark and scribble my soul onto silent paper.
But if that doesn’t scare you
I am also going to be the love of your life.
I am going to put your alarm out of a job
and wake you with morning whispers
and gentle kisses.
There will be days you’ll be too sick to move,
so I’ll bring your recovery to you
with soup and a soft touch
and read you off to sleep.
There will be days you will not feel beautiful
and I will make my eyes your mirror
and show you that in them
reflects the most beautiful woman in the world.
There will be days that world will show up with weapons drawn,
and I will put on my ready armor
and stand between you
and dare it to make a move.
There will be days you will think that too much trouble—
that you are too much trouble—
and I will remind you
with split lip and busted rib
that you are worth it
every cut and bruise and kiss
no matter what that day brings.
I should save such words for wedding vows
but the reality is that every word I say to you
is a promise made to keep.
I’m saying “I will love you tomorrow”
every time I say “Goodnight”
and every time I say “Hello,” I’m saying,
"I am yours for life."
I fall in love with you
all over again.
And it was electric.
Gray matter made wild and alive
with the frenzy of love;
You touched my mind
and set my synapses alight—
brain cells like bulbs
on a busy switchboard
burning and blinking tungsten fire
connecting my head to yours
and collecting memories.
Your beautiful brain
keeps a record
of all the times I held my tongue
but had that look in my eye;
all the words that belong to those looks,
writ large and careful in heavy books,
sagging shelves beneath their weight,
giving volume to a sigh.