I am not loud
Nor am I a demanding presence,
So why do you remember?

Why do those years matter?
Why is it so important to me?

Why does it all matter?

Let me tell you,
It matters because you were the first.
The very first
I had ever felt anything for.

And now I want you to know,
I want you to be the last,
The last person I have felt these things for.

I am not bold,
I am not fast,
I am not the best
And I am never the last.

But I will give
All that I have
To be yours,
To be your last.

I don't see in me,
What you see in me.
I see a world of mistakes,
And a life built of scars.
I see myself,
Thirteen and running through tall grass,
To escape things I wish I had never seen.
I see blood and loss,
I see missing out,
I see a guttural growl
And lashing out.

But for there are softer sides of me,
And I don't want to paint a picture
And replace what you think you know.
I hope you keep seeing whatever it is
You see of me.
I hope you keep seeing
Whatever picture you have of me.

I want to be seen as gentle,
And kind.
A ginger touch,
Filled with warmth,
And some type of love.

And it matters to me,
Because about eleven years ago,
You were the closest thing to someone that knew anything about me.

And seven years ago,
I saw you again,
And when we finally saw each other
More than a month ago
This time around,
I fell hard,
Just like then.

It might not matter,
All that time,
All that loss in between,
But it means so much to me,
That you're here
Now.

That you're mine
Now.

And now there were times
You wish you were there for,
But it's okay.

I am who I am
By doing all of that,
By handling all of that
On my own.

But I am here,
And you are here,
And finally,
I can see why it matters.