I find myself getting comfortable
with the idea of us
find myself washing your dishes
one and a time
wondering if I could wash away your fears
sponge away at your insecurities
and let them disappear
among tap water and edible debris
i don't want to compare you to household chores
soap bubbles don't fly the way childhood ones do
the way we should and the way we would
if our relationship wasn't polluted
with specks of unidentified baggage
so my hands will trace plates
attempt to airdry the silver-lining in our emotional clouds of gray
until they look gold
transforming dishwashing into alchemy
letting you sink wholeheartedly
and protect you before you're in too deep
baptize you with tap water tears
and a touch bred to feel like home.
in case its gone unnoticed, i'm a romantic. always have been.
but i'm a pessimist. how the two co-exist is beyond me.