When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who is singing by your gate.
His song is softer than the dew
And he is come to visit you.

O bend no more in revery
When he at eventide is calling.
Nor muse: Who may this singer be
Whose song about my heart is falling?
Know you by this, the lover's chant,
'Tis I that am your visitant.

I thought I had fallen in love
With boys before you.

I thought I had fallen in love
With boys who took too long to text back.

I thought I had fallen in love
With boys who never kissed me in public.

I thought I had fallen in love
With boys who did not make me feel the way you do.

I thought I had fallen in love
With boys who had not fallen in love with me.

Now I know I had never fallen in love
Before I fell in love with you.

i'm not at all a morning person, but,
could i be your morning person?
i could get up at seven on sundays and make your coffee.
and be up at 2am on wednesdays to hold you while you sleep.  
and,
at 4am,
when you feel like your worlds getting too small for all your thoughts,
i'll wake up,
and stay up,
so you can let your imagination over flow into mine just to stop it from spilling out onto the floor.
i'm not a morning person; not at all,
but, could i be your morning person?

I want to say that I wish we never did it
but I don't regret it

and if anything
at least we have the memories
of what we almost,
maybe,
could have been....

Arms.
Arms that held me.
Arms that welcomed me
into the realm of womankind
Hands that held mine
with the intent of "for all time."

Hands that were oftentimes
the guiding light.

In these arms I was reborn.

In these arms I was taken
Arms that made decisions
Made choices not my own
These hands shaped me
Shaped me into a stranger.

The debt of joy and grief owed
To these hands and these arms
Has left an indelible mark

These hands and these arms
Hold a place that is mine
Irrevocably mine.
Whether I choose it
Or not.