I hardly recognize him.

This isn’t the pimply, pockmarked face under greasy hair I remember from high school.

This can’t be the guy who got spitballed and wedgie’d, who was tripped in halls, who had his lunch tray dumped on his lap.

This can’t be that guy, because this guy is glowing.

I see him in the grocery store, pushing a cart with two little kids, smiling brightly like the gold band on his finger.

I go home and look in the mirror and see myself as I am, and I can’t help but wonder how he got everything first.… Read the rest

I’m going to take my name
off the list of the ones waiting
for their person.

I’ve found mine.

The hunt has come to an end,
because this one makes me feel
like a baby bird under a wing, 
like the air we need to breathe.

No wonder he leaves me
breathless and tongue-tied.

When he holds me,
all I want in the world is him.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: list, the hunt, and tongue-tied.

_{Photo by Igor Rodrigues on Unsplash}