You know what it's like to sleep beside me
And wake up to my morning breath, you know
What it's like to sink yourself into my depths,
Together
You and I know everything.

A woman once told me
I was an open book with tattered pages and
I do not think I can agree with this, but
Whatever kind of book I am, you
Have taken the time to learn me
And sift through every page
Marking and highlighting
Your favorite passages
With your clay-stained, summer hands.

You have seen the rivers of light run through my eyes
And you know that I grew up without a family, live without a home, and
While you understand these things you also know
That they are not why my love for you
Is so strong, and I cannot thank you enough
For knowing that.

When your hands meet my flesh, they are not surprised that it is startled by itself
And take the time to soothe
The fearful currents running through it
Back to sleep.

When your eyes meet mine, I'm reminded that
I have never felt so familiar
In another person's gaze.

You ground me, rescue me from chaos on occasion by reminding me
That it is never too late to be new-

And I ought to slow down my hurtling mind
More often than I do
To tell you this,
And write to thank you.