Believing I Do

I was walking down a dirty dead end street.

Praying for someone to come and rescue me.

Then in a fog of smoke,

like a ghost,

or an angel

you appeared.

You took my hand in yours,

you wiped my tears with the tenderness of a dove.

You took my fractured street

and mended it, without so much as a miffed sigh.

I look in your hazel-nut eyes,

and honestly it caught me by surprise,

how intoxicating they were.

You saw me first,

during the hurricane of my worst

and you fell for her.

I scream out,

waiting for someone to respond,

when I ask why I'm suddenly holding aces.

And I pause,

in that shoestring moment

and think maybe I deserve this.

Then I think a second more,

and realize that no one could ever deserve you.

I could never even dream of deserving you.

Yet somehow you twist my arm into believing I do.