A Tinkerer's Apprentice

I still remember the curl of my
fingers as they wrapped around your waist,

posing for a picture that I have
saved as the background on my computer,

serving as a constant reminder of where
I'm going and who I'm going to.

I can still recall your scent as
it teased my senses and called me ever-towards you,

like pine-needles and soap, all at once
refreshing and invigorating as the cold

Washington air laps at our skin while
we drive, holding hands and singing shitty songs.

Even as I write this, I can feel each
hair follicle brushing on my face as you kissed me.

In that moment, I felt like a porcelain doll,
too special to actually be real. All thanks to you.

I talk to pillows, imagining that they are
you, nearly convincing myself in the darkness.

But pillows can't respond; I suppose,
for now, neither can you.

The prize is worth the wait.
I can both handle and travel the distance.

You remarked that I treat you like
more than just a piece of meat.

It didn't make sense to me that
I would be praised for treating you like a human being.

A human being which, i might add,
I'd love to sit on those benches and speak with once more.

You're not damaged, just in need of
a few repairs. Luckily, I'm a tinkerer's apprentice.

Whatever you need, I can give it.
Whatever you say and I'll do it.

I will tinker and care for you
with all of my powers.

I will sit down and talk with you,
passing the hours.

I will lay with and sing to you,
until winter's snow brings spring's flowers.

And yes it sounds cheesy and canned,
but there's not much I wouldn't do for a man

who makes me feel so alive,
my soul taking flight.

I long to lay with you,
never once actually sleeping all through the night.

But for now I will wait. I will wait
and hug pillows, envisioning another entity besides myself

in the early-morning's ephemeral darkness,
in the late-night's glittering black.