It’s night
and I’m thinking of you again.
The way your head used to lay tenderly
on my chest like a child
and the simple contradiction
of you, a man
leaning on me,
and how it made me suddenly understand
the complexities of love,
how we find ourselves falling
into roles, filling
holes
with our bodies, our words,
our hands, our hearts
trying so desperately
to be everything
the other didn’t even know they needed.
And isn’t that wrong,
but so beautiful?
How we bend and break and reshape
the contours
the curves
the chaos in our minds
to match another’s?
No longer existing
just to exist,
but breathing
believing
becoming
love
in every
single
moment.
It’s night
and I’m thinking of you again.
How we were so much
so big
so full of youth
and life
and how we never questioned
hands in each others,
lips in rhythm,
legs tangled under blankets
talking about a future
we couldn’t yet picture,
but promising forever
all the same.
It’s night
And I’m thinking of you again,
wondering if you still watch the sky for burning stars,
play that same damn radio station
and sing along, off-key, in that silly voice I always loved.
I’m thinking about how I became
a woman
a force
a mess
a believer
all in the safety of your arms.
And maybe our wishes
didn’t pan out, maybe we
lost the game we never knew we were playing.
But our love story
is one I’ll never stop
replaying in my head.
Because who I became
with you
is woven forever into my being,
and it’s night
and I’m thinking of you again
and I just can’t
forget.