A poem about a member of the opposite sex

The boy with the golden trombone. In his mind he is only playing. In my mind I'm overthinking.

The boy with a book in his hand on a sunday morning. In his mind is something I cannot read. In my mind is him.

The boy with messy hair, loose fit shirt smiling, laughing in his messy apartment with music in the background. In his mind he is living the moment.

Im away now.

In my mind I'm playing the keyboard for him.

In my mind I am singing for him.

Now I am writing; in his mind I wish I lived. Because in my mind he... is.

Truth

In the core of the core of the planet and the lives on the planet, lies a gem. The purest of pure that life has seen.
It is said that this gem posses radioactivity,one beyond detection and understanding of man. Only in the core of the core can that radioactive power be contained.
Be it nature or be it a higher intelligent power that knew exactly this, whichever cause, the gem was placed exactly where it was supposed to be. So that when the world is said to revolve around its axis, it only revolves around it.
As if any other place this gem would have been placed, would have lost the world its sense and its purpose.
And the curse of the walker on two was that he knew. He know about the gem. He knew where it lies. He knew that although he can in denial choose to ignore it, his life, his awake and his sleep, his moving and his stagnancy, his belief and disbelief did not change his position from it. For he, each day and night, each hour, minute and second of his life is revolving around it, like a worship ritual.

The Lesson

Teach me how to know
Teach me how to see it with your eyes
Teach me what it means
Teach me how to grow

When the light is not a distraction
Teach me the next move
And the one after
Teach me to love

Documentation

Someone posts a soundtrack. I listen. Someone posts a love sonnet. I read. Someone posts a GIF of winter in Paris. I see, and I remember my one perfect night there. 
A book with a golden cover lays next to me in bed. I smell its papers. I feel something and I smile. 

and I can, at this moment, write. 

I should write that it's going to be ok; because at this moment it feels like I am ok. With all that has happened I am still ok. And at the end of what to come, maybe it is going to be ok. 
When I write, however, I do not forget the conditional clauses, the sets of verbs and adverbs of uncertainties. I do not forget my shoulds and maybes. I know better.. I would.