I wondered where you were
at this time of night
snuggled in a dream of little babies
wrapped around yourself
and chocolate biscuits courting tea
with the waiting for  tomorrow.

I wondered what you'd be doing
alone near a fireplace
stretching your arms to the warmth
and sighing with relief
that I will be home on a late flight
to hold you close again
to carry the weight of your worries
of sleepless nights.

I wondered if you'd miss me
as much as I would crave you
my world a winter of loneliness
your time a summer of silence.

I wondered if I'd ever told you
the we were designed opposites
in age and magic numbers
yet we compensated for the difference
with our give and take..

Is it no wonder
that all the lights of Paris
would not be equal
to the one sparkle in your eye
when I finally reach home.

Author Notes

Real and happening. Another love story with lights.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 6 days ago

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11590319-late-night-call.....-by-Marshall-Gass#sthash.7r9e1jSw.dp­uf

Overwhelmingly difficult to not overflow,
Teeth closed tight, a cage for the butterflies fluttering below  
They are called by an essence, an undefinable glow,
With incredible might, I still my breath and my heart starts to slow.  
After all, I slump defeated, slouched down and low,
Knowing what the timid will all live to know,
I could have said simply, good morning, hello

I don’t want to be touched in ways that make my insides turn to licorice
I don’t want you to hold my hand because it binds us to the public and you own me.
I don’t want to kiss in movie theaters.
I don’t want to have *** in the back of your car.
I dont like doing things that feel like a betrayal to myself
Every time our hands intertwine or our lips press together
In a half hearted attempt to rekindle the butterflies that are long gone
Sit at the bottom of my stomach. Dead.
When I fake *******, smiles, lies about how happy I am
I feel apart of myself tangle up
Making me smaller and smaller until im a ball of knots.
I don’t want to be anyones *** interest
Safety boat
Most important person because it limits me to what I can be to myself.
I don’t want to be touched in ways that betray myself and make me any less of my own most important person.

I imagine a life with you
But I'm still dreaming of him
I want your children
Running around our house
Jumping on our bed
Sunday morning regret
Homemade waffles
From hungover hands
But it'll all be worth it
Because I know
Even then, years from now
There will still be stars in  your eyes
When my hair is a mess
And my clothes are littered with holes

I imagine our wedding day
The invitations with calligraphy
Engraved in deep ink
And how I can't bring myself
To dare write his name
With my hungover hands
And I don't tell you this
But I still dream up his face
When I'm kissing your lips
And I wish I could stop
But my heart is a mess
And his eyes never shined
Nearly as bright as yours
But they were deep enough
Kashmir quick sand
And I'm still stuck
Dreaming of him, my dear

I wish I was sorry.

I am a fly , a mosquito that brings an agitating sound to your ears, and sleepless nights full of tears.  
I am sour taste, that changes the appearance of your face. The embarrassments that you have faced
I am your path your light, I am your torch in the night.
I am the one you lean upon when something goes awfully wrong.
I am your mother the one you seek when you feel bleak.
I am the subject in your dreams, I am the nightmare that causes your screams
I am a complicated riddle, the one that causes you to fiddle.
I am a nit in your hair, the anger in your mothers stare.
I am anonymous I am alone, I am a person with no home.
I am love, I am hate, I am the one  that causes a debate.
I am you, I am him, I am your one and only sin.
I am here , I am there , I am the one you want to share.
What am I?
I am this poem...I am a memory.

softening the distant rumble of
streaking red and white lights
behind muted headphones.
he escapes to a place all to himself.

free to cross over empty streets, and
pedal backwards, endlessly, to regretted decisions.
free to release blistered handlebars, and
relive the memories written on eye lids,
without consequences.

as he leans into smooth asphalt curves
and disappears into familiar
darkness. leaving it all
behind balding tires.