If Walls Could Talk

If these walls could talk,

They’d tell you about her.

They would have the softest eyes, the kind you can see your reflection in, and with a light whisper they would tell you about the look she gave me after she pulled away from our first kiss.

With a single drop in those soft eyes, they would tell you about the tears that ran down her face, pooling at the bridge of her nose, when we had to tell the others.

With the biggest grin you’d ever seen, they would tell you about the way that she giggled in my arms until the moon greeted the sunlight.

They would, most certainly, tell you about her.

Because when she’s here they are unable to see anything else. They too, are blinded by her brilliance that she doesn't even know she posses.

And like me, they would try to build walls to protect her, but she would still find a way to come crashing through them with a destructive elegance, reminding us that the walls do not make this home, but her.

And I know that these walls would tell you everything about her, because I swear to you when she is in the room, she is the only thing they see. And I hope, most of all, that they would tell you about that slight grin of hers and the way it curls on the right side of her lip, softly greeting her dimple, when she briefly catches my eye from the other side of the room, or how her eyes glisten with curiosity, as they investigate mine.

And I hope they would tell you how worth it all those tears were, that we finally had a chance to go swimming in the pool that they formed, because she always finds a way to make me smile, even as her tears threaten to flood our little bridge.

And most of all, I hope they would tell you that the very look she gave me as she pulled away from our first kiss, as the moonlight waltzed through the blinds, landing with a final beat on my heart, just keeps happening.

If these walls could talk,

They’d tell you about her.