I used to write words a mile a minute, like my mind was on fire and nothing would stop the burning except words
And then you
You stopped the burning and I lost my breath and the words stopped pouring out of me. . .
It was because until you, I had no voice
I was coasting on the momentum of a thousand hands before me, pushing a thousand phrases into the same old form on the page
I was a copycat thief, stealing what I knew, because what I knew was safe
I thought what I knew was safe
What I knew. . . But I knew you, and I fell in love
And falling in love is not safe
Falling in love is like every other version of falling, except people don't believe it can happen as easily as they believe that falling down stairs can happen
Falling down stairs happens every day
Falling in love does not
But the vulnerability is still present in each, and I knew it and it was not safe
I knew you and you were not safe
I lost my stolen words, and I had to find new ones
New words that I did not steal, but these new words are still ******
These new words are a six year old taking the bike out for the first time and scraping his knees ******
These new words are a trip to Disneyland when you're very young and you've lost your parents and you can't enjoy the park because you're terrified that they'll leave without you
These new words aren't worth ****
But they're worth everything
They're worth everything because they're new
They aren't stolen
They are harder
I can't fit them into the shapes I have seen
They're a DIY project gone terribly wrong, but I keep at it, because it's a project we're both working on
I'm burning my hands with the hot glue gun, and you're coated in glitter glue
But we're doing it together
And these new words are part of the process
Part of the danger
Part of what I knew, but what I know now is you
I know you, and you're showing me the ropes, as we read the manual