Poetry

The Exception to the Rule – Brooke Safferman

The leaves tickle my bare feet
Dew drops beaming proudly in the coral-lit world
Peachy skies raining euphoria upon our giggling bodies
6am; we’re the only people who exist.

And your lips tickle my elbows
Nothing is as sweet as the whispered “I love you”s
Or the way I lose track of what is my hair and
what is the grass.

The moisture of the ground beneath my back trickles
Through the cotton fibers of my starchy eyelet dress
White is the color of purity, but more importantly,
that of your soul.

With your arms around me
I know that we will be
The Couple That Lasts.

And we will be
The Sweethearts
The When-Are-They-Gonna-Get-Married-Already
The Exception To The Rule.

I watch the birds fly by up above us
And I imagine we are one of them
We are too young to be in this deep,
But we couldn’t care, even if we desired to.

“We already are one,”
you say and you smile.
I lace my hand into your own.
The Exception To The Rule.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s