High Praise

I used to stare down the barrel

Of my futures with men

Before you

And all I saw

Were dimly-lit, cramped spaces

And sad smiles

I knew I would become

A suitcase

In someone else’s adventure

Splashing through

Plain mud puddles

As my life got smaller

And smaller.

If they left me

To go find less while I

Searched for more

I guess we’ve succeeded

They have.

I have

You have

I have you

I suppose we’ve all succeeded

We’ve reached an equilibrium

I’ve not been reduced

To an object of use

And they’ve been deducted

I have not left

So what have I left

I have more

Of you have

I have you

I have won.

Take that.

I finally get to love

In the context

Of being

Loved.

So now I have the

Audacity to live

What a grand thing

To live is

Now I want the rest

Of my life to be as good as you

Settling down too young

Always felt a fool’s fantasy

But while the temptation of escape

Is terrifyingly claustrophobic

You are tempting

A tale of good

And promise

Because you do not perceive me

You see me just

As I do

You do not lie to me

You’ve earned trust through integrity

You’ve loved me into honesty

Intellectual intimacy

Crossed the threshold

To face me

The faces of all

My cards, face up

Not just bleeding

They’ve bled out

Lie with me, my love

Face the dome of the sky

You burned bright as the sun

That hurt my eyes

And I became your Moon

Now the light has scattered

Into technicolor stars

And northern lights

No plain muddied barrel

Puddle-sized view

Everything is vast with you

Make me an ocean

Where sleep has lost its fear

And smiles fall wide open

And time draws far to near

Make me an ocean, as

Dear, as ever I love you

My dreams ripple through

The water, expanding as they do

Concentric rings of passions

Ripping currents through the waves

Concurrent restrictions waived

In one deep breath, and hey

Occurring at the epicenter

A desire grows stronger, too

Singularly focused

Should God will it, make it true

I’ve been dreaming

Can I have

A Crowded Table with you?

Matylda M. Biskupska is an early-twenties poet based out of Connecticut. She has an existential crisis approximately every seven minutes, and writing is her catharsis. More of her work can be found in _Adolescent Voices_.