Today I was faced with a question
An unforgiving sting to the face
As I read that sign on the subway
“What is your passion?”
Well, I missed my stop in the east
And that job interview along with it.
I caught myself sitting on that seat
For another 30 minutes.

Because I racked my brain for an
Answer and I just couldn’t find one other than him.
See, a couple months back
You could’ve caught me preaching a sermon
Of his words on a Sunday morning
Or interpreting the ideologies in
The lines of his hands
I could play the melody of his sighs
Like the strings of a violin
And our love was my cross-country match
It took work, but we always seemed to reach the finish line stronger

Some people breathe prose
Or praise literary works
Like the heavens
But he was my passionate moments
I never believed in anything but him
We were fire
Gasoline and a match
An imminent disaster
But isn’t burning skin
Afire with another’s touch
Better than the one shriveling without it?
Didn’t they always say there was beauty in the destruction?

He was my sun
My oxygen
My turning world
A poet’s words
An artist’s canvas
A scientist’s long-sought equation
There for all of my phases
My scatterbrained thoughts

So no, I’ve never stuck to one thing
I’ve changed jobs like I do outfits
I’ve never had a passion
That has consumed me
That I’ve sacrificed to
But boy, did I have you.