I might not be able to have a contraption to delicately capture images of our silhouettes dark across the sun setting sky.

I might not be able to have it just right way so that you can see the majesty purple and warm orange splashing against each other in a pale blue sky.

The kind of blue that one would color a soft baby boy blanket that wraps tightly around while you can hear mommy humming a quiet tune,

and you can feel her warmth and protection covering you like chocolate over a strawberry shaped marshmallow.

I might not be able to set the aperture to let in just enough light that she is a mystery and you wonder if her face is happy or swollen with sadness.

I might not be able to add grain and a teal film to make it look like I’m taking pictures with an actual camera that takes actual knowledge to use.

You know the ones that are as forgiving as a swarm of teeny tiny fire ant drones that are only trying to protect their home from your smashing foot.

Because they use film and are like that sissy “try try again” camera that have miniscule dots created by Red Green Blue.

I might not be able to hand you something and tell you, look at this for a second and know exactly what I did, but I would rather choose to tell you.

I would rather tell you of how warm the orange the sky was like the glow of a bonfire that is simmering in the night-mosphere;

of how our silhouettes were not dark and foreboding, but humble, not distracting from the portrait that God carefully splashed in the sky.

Yet you know that the silhouettes are smiling.

Smiling with a joy of being together with friends, standing shin high in a lake just because they can.

I would rather tell you of the look in your eyes when you look at him. It’s as if you were looking for something for a very long time, but you did not know you were looking for it, and when you see him you become so overjoyed because you finally found what you were looking for.

It was like you made a puzzle and there was one piece missing from the middle and a month later you found the last piece unexpectedly under the sofa.

I would rather tell you that when you reach out for his hand longing to be connected in more than though or emotion, I subtly cringe and boil with jealousy because I have always wanted that.

I have been waiting for someone to look at me and see their eyes to light up like a night sky on the 4th of July.

I want her to reach out and hold me, and let me know that she will be there for me when I feel so very lonely,

and I can’t help but write a little somethin’ somethin’ to keep my mind busy.