A million years ago or yesterday whichever one came first was when I burst the bubble blown and threw out the things I'd always known and took my giant leap which may have been a stumble but either way, leap or stumble, I moved away and watched my history crumble,

a good move,
nay
a great move.

and I was moved to write
to drop the words down from the night that never was except for in the darkest of my days

and sometimes I tumble into bed, not so drunk that I can't hear the quiet voices in my head and sometimes I just watch the ceiling feeling kind of happy and kind of happy is a sort of happy that comes with no catches.

She matches my mood
I cook for her some food
and we sit to say grace,

sometimes her face is all that I see
even in the mirror that should reflect me
it is her and always will be.