Less of a poem and more of a letter

2 hours.  2 hours can raise an awful lot of questions.

I made my choice a while ago.  You made me promises and I'm choosing to believe you.  I'm choosing to trust you.  Your eyes made me promises and your lips made me promises and your heartbeat made me promises but I'm still waiting for you to cash in.

Please prove me right.  Baby, please prove me right.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't be your afterthought.  I've had too much of that and I don't know how much more I can take.  I don't expect to be your world but can I be a part of it?

And listen, I can't do all the work here.  I'm going 97% but I can't keep up this pace, my heart needs more validation than my ego.  You gotta meet me halfway.  You said you would.  And you know, your eyes agreed with your words.  I trusted your eyes.

Please prove me right.

The stars are out tonight.

"What defines you, Shug?"

I told him that was a hard question, that I wasn't sure how to answer that.  I told him maybe my past, ninth grade? 

I guess it isn't that hard though.

"This view defines me," I could have said.  "You know how it's 12:17 and it's dark but it's still hot?  That defines me.  If you looked up Shug in the dictionary it would say summer."

I could have told him that neither of us were wearing shoes, and that defines me.  Orion and the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia.  The sand lingering on my callused feet and the bottom of his rolled up slacks, hot asphalt, and being out too late.  That's real life.

Everything else is just a dream.

A nightmare, more like, the kind of dream where you can never run fast enough. 

"But this is so real, and we are so alive.  There will always be another summer and I guess that defines me."