All the best nights of my life
have faded with time into the air I breathe
have solidified with time into the foundations
upon which I build my life. All the laughter
and sometimes tears, all the embraces
and the early morning chatter which is so abstract
and yet so real, I will never remember exactly
as it was, but they make me love you
all the more, nonetheless.

I am not going home.
You can try to pull me back
Tell me all the reasons you love me
Remind me of all my duties and obligations
Call to the moral compass that never points north inside of me-

The one you planted in place of the heart you stole.
But I will not come back, not to the house
That is called "home" through sheer force of habit.

Name a wolf "sheep"- he will turn on his "brothers"
Name a devil angelic- he will cause the downfall of heaven
Name a leopard a lapdog- his spots will not change.

I named you loving, tender, gentle.
I called you moral, caring, I dared to try and call you mine.
I have spoken falsely, the sheer force of my want
Making me liar, a false prophet.

I am not going home-
My home is in my own heart
And you are not in it.

To reach out
and touch your cheek,
thistledown-light finger
upon the peach-fuzz softness
that is your skin.
I am quiet, reverent
not quite daring to believe
that this sleeping human (you
are so much more than human
and yet your flaws are compliments
to your other-worldly perfection
that root you solidly
to my terra firma) could ever exist
let alone exist here and now-
sleeping so soundly, so peacefully-
and you are mine to touch
as gently as I please.

Though you asked me
to say those words, should
I feel the need, should they
ever become necessary,
that hurtful sentence will never
cross my lips. Though you,
in you innocence and well-meaning,
asked me to tell you, should I
ever feel the rift growing, my limbs
hardening, your eyes seeing
me as only something I am not, you
will never hear me say those words.
You are happy.
You are so happy, and I
will never be the one to decide
my comfort is worth more
than your happiness. That
is my promise. I will only ask
one thing- please hold on
to your happiness, please, I beg
so I never feel my silence
was in vain.

And after everything, I think
I can finally say I am beginning
to understand what you have been trying
to tell me for so long.
And after everything, I still
get scared sometimes, terrified that
everything I think I am understanding
is my own brand of idiotic hopefullness, or
worse, I have understood, but
you are feeding me empty sentiments, sugar cubes
to quiet a squalling baby.
And after everything, I see
in mind's eye, our figures
tied together, not mine
vainly trying to lasso yours, fine as shadow,
as I did for so long, and more
than that, I see us holding willingly
to this rope, precious more than gold
or anything anyone could offer me.
And after everything, I trust
not blindly, as I did before, but honestly
not the trust of a sun-dazzled fool
to her betters, but the open
and honest trust to a flawed human
who deserves it.
And after everything, I can say
we are not hurt, we stand
strong, I have predicted well
and we have survived, and your fears
were as unfounded as I said
they would be, (as unfounded
as my very own).
And after everything, I still
love you, and more
than I could before.