Turning Tables Rudy Francisco

You are a sentence with no punctuation.
A kaleidoscope full of colors that I don’t remember learning in elementary school.
Your voice is a sound that I’ve been looking for my entire life.
Your smile is the only sunrise worth setting my alarm clock early enough to see.
If I could I would shape-shift into the first thing you think about in the morning
Just so I can be reminded of what it’s like to wake up next to you.
I love you in a language that I don’t fully understand.
In words that I haven’t found enough courage to forklift out of my chest.
I heard that karma is vengeful and is also a light sleeper
So I’ve chosen to love you like this.
Quietly.
So I’ll call your phone and hang up before it actually rings.
I’ll write you letters that you will never read.
And when I see you in public
I’ll stick my hand inside of a bag full of things that I haven’t done since you left me
And pull out a smile.
I’ll say something like:
“Hello.”
“It’s nice to see you.”
And I’ll keep walking.