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.
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.