If it was just that easy..

From where did you teach me,

Like how did you get beneath me,

And find my tiny little secrets.

I thought I was hiding them from me.

As the questions start a grunt.

I don’t remember a lake house,

but I remember Samantha’s garden.

I remember hide and seek,

but you were never too far from my meet.

I remember the way you laughed,

Ever so loud and yet not at all.

Ever so softly,

And yet,

like a promise-jelly-carven-belly ring that could never come off.

Stuck on industry games,

but I’m no Aaliyah,

better yet,

I wasn’t your Ahyliiyuah.

Oh how the French of times,

make me rethink the way you say my name.

And if I was to ever produce a tear,

you would blow the biggest bubble,

against my nose,

like it didn’t belong to anyone else.

As if,

your inner corner,

wasn’t anything that I’ve ever felt.

Because…

Where there was a high,

there was a high-five.

Because,

Where there was water droplets,

there was something laid out upon your skin,

much hotter.

I wish I could wish upon a star of that dreamy lake house.

But sadly..

Nothing comes to mind.

Not even if I waited up for you past my bed time,

And you was just right outside the doorway.

I don’t remember the food your chef made,

Oh boy ar’ Dee, and that there was, a mean cuisine chef.

No cheesy bread that day,

but maybe.

Just maybe,

I had a delightful salad.

And just maybe,

was it tossed right!

Just maybe was there no stream beans,

And just maybe I asked for a leafy—no croton salad.

Maybe we had fresh picked onions,

And maybe there was no oily—sautéed greens to go on top.

Just maybe,

If I hadn’t,

just maybe I didn’t, lick my lips to its creamy, lite, chunky flavor.

Just maybe that day I didn’t throw up,

And maybe that day you held my belly.

Something I could finally keep down,

at that dreamy lake house,

next to Samantha’s garden,

With a homemade chef,

and a mother to be.

If only I could ever remember, saying “I do.”