In Comparison

I’m a reckless mistake

I’m a cold night’s intake

I’m a one night too long

I’m a come on too strong

     -Imagine Dragons; Polaroid

 

You are a cold night’s intake,

And the following puff of smoke.

You are a stick of butter at room temperature

And heavy footsteps up the stairs.

You are a rainbow veiled by clouds

And the pecking of small hail stones.

 

However, you are not a pool along the river side,

Nor an unsmudged glass of ice,

Or the print of a snow-angel.

You have never been deafening headphones;

You’ve never even been the bass felt in the car.

 

Perhaps you are a telephone wire laden with birds,

Or maybe the steady hour hand of a clock with the wrong time

But you just never will be

A water balloon full of paint.

 

Your reflection glazed across a loading screen

Reveals that you are neither a wet trampoline

Nor an unopened box of Band-Aids.

 

You may feign indifference

And usher dew drops before dropping a façade,

But I am a wave crashing hard on the sand only to slip away.

 

I also consider myself the white dashes on the road,

A weathered dictionary full of leaflets,

And the flowered weeds between cracks in the sidewalk.

 

I am the grass and mud on wet pant knees

And a stone of scarred rosin.

Though I am the one night too long

And come off too strong for the sensitive palette,

You are the cold night’s intake

And the illusive shapes and figures of the clouds,

And the cookie dough to my chocolate chip ice-cream.

🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬