You've yet to mention the ghosts
in my corners, collecting like dust,
or the tree limbs chandeliered
over my bed to remind me
I'm not the only one with lost pieces.

If there's another word
for love, I've yet to hear it.
If there's another name
for happiness-- it's yours.

Looking at you is sunshine
seeping into my pores.
Vitamin D makes me feel
like who I should be,
not who I am.

This wasn't supposed to be
an apology, but I'm sorry.
Sorry for my cookie smile,
crumbling, for my atrial
septal defect, for clinging
to you like the freckles
on your elbows.

I'm sorry about a lot
of things, but you'll never
be one of them.  What
I'm trying to say is
I love you

even on days I don't
know what love is.