On your burgundy pillow

You laugh when I ask you
not to point me to the roof.
It's a place that is hard
for me to comeback from
that keeps me away
from seeing into your heart.

You would tie me to this
kitchen chair if you could
but I already am bound
by each fingertip-
blue or not.

And as much as I know
you hate it
I can't apologize
because I find no fault
in wanting to see you
when I can't.

I know you understand.
Between all the laughing
the water is calmer
when you smile back
while I peak in
to catch a glimpse.

I feel you doubt less,
still struggling a bit,
but wanting more
to believe this blueberry
is not rotten as the others
you have tasted before.

Maybe the next time
I ask you that question
you will not say nie,
nor yes,
not even maybe,
you'll just show me...