“find a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic”
she does, Frida
she does.
she looks at me like I am Galileo
and I have mapped the stars just for her;
she has never been more right.
I have spent countless hours
charting the constellations in her eyes,
in the way she drinks her coffee,
in the sound of her breathing when she’s fallen asleep beside me.
when the room grows still,
I kiss the night sky’s secrets into the palms of her hands,
and know that they are safe.
I am so lucky to love her, Frida.
I am so lucky she sees the light in all my dark
and chooses to stay.