When I look at you I see Bryant Park flushed with spring and cluttered, burnished with Christmastime. I see the way your big hands hold my face, my waist. I see thick snowflakes catching in your long lashes.
I see the streaks of light we've trailed in the places we have been like the flare of a comet, footprints in ash and snow.
Six months we have stood, daring the storm to catch us, daring the lightning to strike.
You will pretend you did not remember our anniversary and make me laugh when you say so because you want me to learn that you forgetting me is humorous and ridiculous and impossible. I'll wake up the morning after, panicked because it was five months and not six, and you will say that it makes no difference because what does a month matter when you have forever?
We dance and I trip and step on your toes but you just turn on Frank Sinatra and lead me through while you sing, smiling, in my ear. And on the days when I curl up like a shell in your arms shaking with untraceable, messy sobs you keep singing your lips unafraid to kiss away the tears.
I think I knew you once, a thousand years ago, a billion, when we were stars in the galaxy lovers in a white palace dust in the ground.
And today we are six months of being in love six months of pure, unadulterated happiness six months of dancing, an eternal song.
Sing me to sleep again, champion of my heart. I will dream that we are timeless and your voice will carry me through until the dawn.