Doing things by half
Shouldn't be the worst
In fact it isn't half bad
Except when it's us

Doing things by half
May not be the best
But it's some way to that
If we can settle for less

Doing things by half
Is alien in your world
Half lit is almost dark
The lighting must be full

Doing things by half
Means we live a half life
Hemispheres on a map
Jet trails drawn in white

Doing things by half
Suggests that full is best
And yet we laugh
At suggestions like this

Doing things by half
Is how we survive
It's how we laugh
And it's why we cry

Doing things by half
Is a glass half drained
Lipstick on the glass
Then a Milanese train

Doing things by half
Is a hope half gone
Gone to your heart
Perhaps to return again

Doing things by half
Like doing things by heart
We learn them
We love them
We never forget

If she could grow up to be anything in the world,
She'd be the last thought on his mind before he falls asleep at night.
Or maybe the last person he danced with to the sounds of the winter evening.
Hers would be the last lips his taste,
The last goodnight he whispers as she drifts to sleep on his chest,
The last hand he holds onto
She'd be his last first date, his last first kiss, his last first dance
The last, greatest love of his life.
If she could grow up to be anything in the world,
She'd be his last choice.

Declaring that you’re in a relationship will change some things.
(So maybe I'm putting it mildly)

What it doesn’t mean is that everything will suddenly be perfect.

It takes more than labeling a relationship to hold conversations just by looking into each other’s eyes,
To laugh together while having ***,
To let them convince you that when they tell you you’re beautiful they aren’t disregarding your flaws or glorifying them, but instead loving them because they’re part of you,
And that you’re the loveliest being in the universe,
No matter how many freckles they have to kiss to prove it to you.

It doesn’t mean that you’ll suddenly be able to touch your heart to theirs by giving them a goodnight kiss,
Or that they’ll slow dance to Here Comes the Sun at midnight in the middle of January,
Just because they know it makes you feel so complete inside that you’ll never, ever, want to stop kissing them,
And that you’ll be crying at the same time,
As you smile when you trip over the arm of the sofa and land with them on top of you, holding them harder than ever.

What it does mean is that what you have is mutual.

It means that you’re willing to learn how to lace your fingers together, not caring who sees how awkward it is when you can’t get them to fit quite right,
That you’ll let friendly hugs turn into blushing kisses on the cheek,
Tickle fights into a silence that fits like a missing puzzle piece around you,
As you bump noses and grin for the forty-fifth time,
At two in the morning because neither of you can say goodnight without seeing the smile on the other’s face and blushing again.

It means that person, the person you just let take your label,
The one that that lets everyone know you’re their’s because you want to be,
Is willing to try to get there.
To get there with you.

It means,
That this is a start.

Don’t let go.

Looking West, I think I can see you
In summer clothes, in sunshine, in light
Surroundings that fit and embrace you
Yet, hoping your eyes search for mine

I can't tell if you are looking Eastward
I don't expect you could pray to the East
On a globe, which horizon is forward?
Which sacrifice will guarantee the yield?

And meantime you shimmer on coastlines
On sand, and at parties, in bars
But I recall you when you were all mine
Quietly answering each other's prayers

Your love is scaffolding built overnight
Surrounding, supporting weathered stone
An unexpected artisan, you revitalise
You renovate and salvage and own

Own me, and this immobile cathedral
Impervious rock to skilled test
A sanctuary for prayers that come Eastward
A place where our love can be blessed