I forget that you can wake up with me on your mind, too.
I think of you as something that happened to me
as a prize for smiling plenty, baking a lovely chocolate cake,
whatever.

I forget that we happened to each other
and that specific corners of your brain are devoted to me,
that the texture of my hair is in there somewhere
that it is what commands your tongue to silken my lips.

I forget that we happened to each other
and that something so beautiful, or anything at all, is capable
of loving me back. Not one person made for another,
but two made for each other –
you breathe and you love me at the same time.
I breathe and love you at the same time that you love me.