The Idea I Fell In Love With

I am in love with an idea

Not a person. 

The person isn't even real,

Not even in human form. 

Just an idea that tickles my brain, 

Then makes me smile. 

 

The idea is an artist,

With paint brushes stroking my

Forearm and smiling at me with

Dazzling brilliance that shines brighter

Than the sun shining down on us,

As we lay in a field. 

 

The idea is a house on the beach, 

Overlooking the ocean waves as they

Crash and toil through a horrible 

Thunderstorm, and grey clouds surround

The skies, gobbling up all the blue in

A hungry frenzy, shaking the foundation. 

 

The idea is a bus, going nowhere

And no money, and an empty stomach

Because nerves make it to hard

To eat and the sounds of the people,

They are so distracting but intriguing,

And leaning forward to hear conversations. 

 

The idea is long hair and sunkissed skin,

With darling eyes and a quick hug,

But always fleeting and never staying. 

A chase longer than life itself and 

In the end there is no winner,

And there's a heartbreak and elation all in one. 

 

The idea is an obsession, eating away

At a lonely man in a large house as he

Writes poetry and books about the one who 

Got away. Sadness tinges his vision with hues of 

Grey and he never quite recovers because 

Life hits you hard. 

 

The idea is a coffee shop with

Black coffee and a journal, 

Slanted hand writing and a quick

Glance around the room to see

What is going on around and what

Could be happening. 

 

Either way, 

The idea is mine and mine alone,

Whether it be who I want to be,

Or who I want, 

I keep it locked in my heart

On rainy days like today. 

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