If Poem by Melissa Joy Chesky

If I were his tear
able to nestle under
his blue-green iris
I would hope not to plummet
down his pristine skin
gliding past a pronounced cheek bone
to be ended on soft lips
the lips I dream of touching as of late

If I were his laugh
able to be buried
deep in the chest
I would be expelled from within him
rocketing out in the open
the endorphin rush he needed
the epitome of his happiness?

If I were these things
the great emotions possessed
so powerful, so enchanting
I would hope they would be
out of ecstasy, out of joy
nothing falsified
nothing acted out on my behalf