A 'sign' Is Not A Sure Thing Poem by Abby Koning

I inhale your scent.
And see us together, our hands forming a perfect circle while
The brown of your eyes and the green of mine
Somehow combine to make purple…
Which somehow makes perfect sense.
This must be a sign.

And I’ve got an unlimited supply of ten dollar bills
Just waiting for anyone that can explain you to me
And why, in the list of names in my mind,
Yours is always bold, underlined, italicized
And means more than any other.

This must be true love
For I find that I could forgive you for anything.
No need to hurt me, I’d hurt myself first
If you were only to speak the words…
Is that a blessing or a curse?

And I’m losing my concentration
And I’m finding that I simply don’t care
You’re the only thing worth focusing on these days
Between the waiting for you and wishing on stars
There just isn’t time for anything else

Now I exhale slowly.
Awakening painfully to this reality without you.
I breathe out brown eyes, purpose, scars, stars
Which become an ever expanding cloud which spreads
Into the air around it and disintegrates.
And I think to myself…
This too must be a sign.