Thinking of You

There have been days, when all throughout my duties,
I do nothing but think of you.

It happens while I’m driving or brushing my teeth,
Or when I notice how the sun catches a falling leaf
And it makes the yellow and burnt orange flash like a siren of autumn.

On days like these, I wish I could paint.
I would place you on a canvas next to the
Notre Dame de Paris at midnight, with me
In your arms and the ghosts of Josephine and Napoleon
Dancing in love’s reunion,

But I cannot paint.
I cannot run 6 miles like you.
I cannot fly a jet, bench press twice my bodyweight, or
Take away your reservations about men.

I can only offer you a poem and promise:
That for all my shortcomings,
In everything that drives you away,
I promise to take yours with the patience of Job,
And have the jealousy of God—
Because like Him, I know that it would do you no good
To go looking for love in another,
Because ours would swallow an ocean before we let you drown.

They are only words, I know,
But often they are all I have on days like this,
When I can do nothing but think of you.