I had learned that there were conditions when being loved by a man.
I had been conditioned to believe that it wasn’t their job to try and understand.
I had learned that love was one forever needing the upper hand.
I unlearned bad habits as he only says what he means.
I unlearned that I am supposed to conceal the messier parts of me.
I learned that simply being myself makes him love me ever so effortlessly.
Strong, beautiful, bold.
Kind and wonderfully whole. Everything I always wanted to be.
Hoping to truly one day be seen.
Eyes that can be closed and see past any fog and into the soul.
A Seen that, truthfully, most people will never ever know.
We try to walk in the light, ignore all our shadows, merely settle down and get by.
But the way my tendrils have always reached for the sky, and somehow manage to always have stars in my eyes, I’ve always known settling is for those whose souls are too tired to fight.
In other rooms, other cities, other states, thirty-two years of age.
An oddity, a hold out, too much for too many smaller hands.
I am seen. So many go forever without a soul who understands.
And, oh, oh does he see me. Oh, does he know me.
Sweet Jupiter knew,
So he sent me you.
Those amber shots of bourbon that take in every inch of me get me drunk on spontaneous Thursday nights.
The ones that are warm and deep, that pack a punch with no threat of a fight.
Your bourbon eyes take off the edge and burn down my throat.
Your distillery is the very place I call home.
Golden liquor that leaves me drunker than I’ve ever been.
Oh, Darling, I’ll take you shot after shot. Again and again. And again.
You’ve either befriend or villainized that mirror. She tells you lies or what you want to hear.
I didn’t know your mirror told you that you weren’t what you reflect.
Your mirror told you you weren’t enough and that I didn’t deserve all of your defects.
I’ll spend the rest of our days polishing your mirror and reflecting what you don’t see.
As it turns out, your distance has nothing to do with me.
I see you.
I’ll be your mirror and only tell you truths.
You weren’t falling away. You’ve always been mine. I know we will always stay.
I know you’re guilty and I see it in your eyes. September has come and gone and you’re trying so hard to reconcile.
The thoughts in your head aren’t what you wish your heart would match. You’re trying so hard to line up the logic with the synchronization you know we have.
I see the battle and I feel your pain. Struggling to line up your heart and your brain.
The fear of your truths are tangling up what you relay to me. Don’t worry, Darling, this isn’t anything I can’t see.
Love shouldn’t leave you wondering. Curious if you’re the beacon it’s sails are directed. Love doesn’t leave you turning in circles on rocky shores.
He loves me and of this, I am absolutely sure.
It doesn’t need to be possessive and drawn in permanent marker across webbed and arcing lines.
I know that his soul, I’ve got. Just as he’s got mine.
He isn’t volatile. He is the truth. It isn’t riddled with conditions. He isn’t you.
His September’s lead to browns and golds and I will always fall for him like October does for Fall.
Catch me or not, it was worth the possibility of ending with nothing at all.
My biggest fear was not finding this in a single lifetime. Now, it’s the thought of it being denied to me when I know it’s meant to be mine.
Your magic was worth whatever disaster I may befall. This lifetime was worth each and every loss that inevitably comes with Fall.
What hope did I have when his words spun the mundane into fully formed galaxies?
When his eyes turned my perspective into fields of wild flowers.
What hope did I have when his mind made the pieces of everyone’s day into shavings of gold and myrrh?
When he speaks, it’s pure passion, he weaves bits of hope into every part of my world.
What hope did I have when he told me he loves me and I know, without a doubt, that those steely eyes are positively incapable of telling lies?
When he wants to make me a life across the country where I’ve always wanted to go.
What hope did I have when we were written in the constellations eons ago?
We’re up all night as we play in the snow.
My wide eyed flutter follows you everywhere you go.
Tell me your secrets and feed me your truths. We have all night and nothing, yet, everything to do.
The crackle of the vinyl seeps into what we say and the looks you spoon feed me.
Gram and Emmy speak those words you only utter when you’re too far gone to speak.
More than flurries, hearts pounding, inhibitions gone, wild in the snow.
You own me completely and pretend you don’t quite know.
I think the stars are mocking me today. Laughing at all the absurdities in all of the connections in my brain.
I’m certain that it all fell apart today.
Someone the stars didn’t quite plan on making but she’s perfect and petite. She isn’t me.
I’m certain that it’s all the most lovely sham. Make a life for me, change for me, be a man.
I’m certain it was the whiskey and that I wasn’t the right kind of neat. Basil Hayden isn’t for the weak.
I’m certain he’ll have a tail between his legs and a story of drunken nights at weddings with bridesmaids.
I’m sure he isn’t in his bed. I’m sure I’ve balanced too many perfect moments in my head.
I’m certain I am not ready for the fall. I’m positive we are meant to be but I am not ready for nothing at all.
