I remember the first time
I thought you were beautiful.
I also remember
the first time I told you so.
You looked at my crazy,
said, "Jo,
that's not something
you tell your boyfriend."
But what you didn't get
was that I wasn't talking
about your face.
I was talking about
remember when you told me
you didn't believe
in souls?
And I thought
How strange,
for him not to believe
in the masterpiece
he contains.
But I didn't say so.
Instead we talked about
the god you don't
fully believe in
and the hell
I don't think exists.
How could something
who made us out of love
condemn us, especially those
with such beautiful
remember when I told you
I was going to leave?
You sat down
and cried with me,
showing the emotion
I rarely saw.
And I'll admit,
I still don't feel
like "here" is "home."
And you still question God
and I still dismiss Hell
and you still
don't believe in souls.
But I do.
And God knows
that I'd go through
Hell and back
for yours.