I Know You

#28: Amalgam

You are rain's smile; the flood of dew before nightfall.
Your eyes are still able to draw me, drown me.
I drink of you and I taste glass.
You are the mango in my tea; the cinammon in my chai.
I remember when you said I smelled of apple butter...
That was under the sky made of yam.
You are the hushed conversations under the blanket of stars
The velvet sand beneath my feet, the lights on the beach.
You are the walks in the park and the sound of sax in the subway.
You are the "hi" at the dance floor and at the airport, my farewell.
You are the petals kept and the pictures hidden.
You are the string of words in books you've given.
You are the verses, the gentle words, the soft whispers of strength.
Your prayers will always move me as they move earth and heaven.
You are the heartbeat of one who walks with God.
The faith that compels mountains to fall.
The face of flint unperturbed.
The steady hand.
You are the skyscrapers and the archways and the bridges in my head.
You are the keystrokes on my fingertips; the phonelines that still burn.
You are the notes of forgotten songs; the strumming of present silence.
You are the cool on a sweltering day.
The heated discussion on a chilly night.
The grin at the end of it all.
You are the dry humor that kills me; the laughter that comes alive.
You are the depths of the tortured genius,
The humbling stroke of a master's hand.
You are the quiet breaking, the powerful restraint.
Reality's dream.
Hope's stake.