Always Be Mine

Could you always be mine?

I mean, promise me we’ll grow old together drinking cooling coffee as we watch the 6 p.m. news, as we slowly nod off to sleep.

Not in a, let’s get married and walk on the boardwalk way, but a let’s travel to foreign countries and get so lost we think we’ll never get home way.

Promise me that I can knock on your door at 4 a.m. when my insides are out and my outsides are in and you are wiping the sleep from your tired eyes and we just look at each other and things will seem infinitely better.

I can promise that I will always be yours.

I will make you soup with extra noodles when your throat tickles, and sing to you 90’s pop songs when you are feeling down.

And we can run laps in the rain, and make midnight beer runs.

But I need to know that our duo will never truly die.

You can bring your plus one to my successes and I’ll bring mine to yours.

But can you promise to always be mine?

And we can be neighbors and sit on water damaged porches as our kids chase each other around, and mash dirt and leaves together in a watery soup.

And we’ll play card games like bridge, and you’ll win.

I can make cheesecake bites and you’ll wink at me because I put a couple extra raspberries on yours.

But I don’t want you all to myself.

I couldn’t handle how messy you are, or how you have to grab my shoulders and stare my in the eye every time you have something important to say.

You tend to leave the toilet seat up; and your wet socks on the floor.

I’ve never been a fan of the way you alphabetize all the spices, and organize all of your checks by date.

You’ve never liked how I enjoy shouting Celtic Women in the shower, or my tendency to leave cream cheese on the counter after making shortbread cookies.

You need someone else to balance all of your quirks.

I need someone else to fill the cracks in the broken part of me.  

But I will always be yours, if you’ll always be mine.

I want you to be the manliest maid of honor, and shake me when I am refusing to put on a thousand dollar dress so I can spend that I may spend rest of my life with someone who makes me happy. And I’ll fight the chance, for I’m weak,

I’m scared,

But you’re there. And you’ve seen me in my darkest moments,

And you know that this time,

This scary is nothing.

I hope you want me there to walk in and help you fix your tie which you have knotted in nerves

– and we’ll laugh at how our lives have changed and I will probably cry

and you’ll just look at me and shake your head and tell me that I look ridiculous with makeup running races down my face.

We’ll hug, and that’ll be the end of a chapter.

I want nothing more to be your bitch bank, your best friend, your mother, your little sister.

If you’ll be my pillow pet, space heater, older brother, and BFFL

Because I’ll always be yours, if you’ll always be mine. 

Always Be Mine

Could you always be mine?

I mean, promise me we’ll grow old together drinking cooling coffee as we watch the 6 p.m. news, as we slowly nod off to sleep.

Not in a, let’s get married and walk on the boardwalk way, but a let’s travel to foreign countries and get so lost we think we’ll never get home way.

Promise me that I can knock on your door at 4 a.m. when my insides are out and my outsides are in and you are wiping the sleep from your tired eyes and we just look at each other and things will seem infinitely better.

I can promise that I will always be yours.

I will make you soup with extra noodles when your throat tickles, and sing to you 90’s pop songs when you are feeling down.

And we can run laps in the rain, and make midnight beer runs.

But I need to know that our duo will never truly die.

You can bring your plus one to my successes and I’ll bring mine to yours.

But can you promise to always be mine?

And we can be neighbors and sit on water damaged porches as our kids chase each other around, and mash dirt and leaves together in a watery soup.

And we’ll play card games like bridge, and you’ll win.

I can make cheesecake bites and you’ll wink at me because I put a couple extra raspberries on yours.

But I don’t want you all to myself.

I couldn’t handle how messy you are, or how you have to grab my shoulders and stare my in the eye every time you have something important to say.

You tend to leave the toilet seat up; and your wet socks on the floor.

I’ve never been a fan of the way you alphabetize all the spices, and organize all of your checks by date.

You’ve never liked how I enjoy shouting Celtic Women in the shower, or my tendency to leave cream cheese on the counter after making shortbread cookies.

You need someone else to balance all of your quirks.

I need someone else to fill the cracks in the broken part of me.  

But I will always be yours, if you’ll always be mine.

I want you to be the manliest maid of honor, and shake me when I am refusing to put on a thousand dollar dress so I can spend that I may spend rest of my life with someone who makes me happy. And I’ll fight the chance, for I’m weak,

I’m scared,

But you’re there. And you’ve seen me in my darkest moments,

And you know that this time,

This scary is nothing.

I hope you want me there to walk in and help you fix your tie which you have knotted in nerves

– and we’ll laugh at how our lives have changed and I will probably cry

and you’ll just look at me and shake your head and tell me that I look ridiculous with makeup running races down my face.

We’ll hug, and that’ll be the end of a chapter.

I want nothing more to be your bitch bank, your best friend, your mother, your little sister.

If you’ll be my pillow pet, space heater, older brother, and BFFL

Because I’ll always be yours, if you’ll always be mine.