and so it begins

so many different kinds of days

what it is like to

fight with with the perfect person

to wait and see

just how the days turn out when

you just can’t

ask for anything more. One day

you’ll ask me,

why did you stick around, when

some days, it

felt like each was just harder than the

next. Maybe

it has always been because even

after each time

that I’ve seen you, from that first

day in that first kitchen,

to every day in a kitchen mine or

yours, that even in

my night sky, watching each twinkle

and the gaps between,

all the spaces sing your name, in the

silence and the noise.


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