I love you.
I don't know why, but--
I love you.
When I look at you,
I smile.
When you look at me,
I breathe.
I know the awkward fringe of your hair
when it's been cut.
I know the mischief in your eyes
when you scheme.
I know the tiniest scars that spider-web along your scalp,
where the bottle of a careless drunk
shattered so many years ago.
I know the bruises on your arm,
where you've blocked the many basketballs
from hitting my face.
One day I will tell you,
"I love you."
I hope then to count the crinkles in your face
when you smile,
and to know the way your voice sounds
when you say with warmth,
"I love you, too."

this empty locket

in my hands i hold a locket
brand new, sunshine-catching silver
flowers etched and curling across its surface
a pretty thing

but when i open it--
it is empty
no picture or trinket to fill it in
a hollow that i brush my fingers across longingly
and i close it with a sigh
(because i wish--i wish--)
i close this empty locket