writing of something attached to you is a simple thing;
i could tell a story all about my arms and how they are the sweetest things-
picking me up, stopping me from falling and helping me feed myself
sometimes i even lay my head on them and i fall asleep
it's simple because it's like a home
and six months ago you became a part of that home
a part of this human being with arms i sleep on and legs figured out i could open door handles with;
a whole entire section of me that keeps safety on the ceiling and happiness in all the cobwebs
a home within a home
experiencing love and wanting it became two different things quickly
i never knew love was so gently wrapped up between
"hey andy i hate you" and "hey kate go **** yourself"
but there it was
i guess it does come in all shapes and sizes

six months is a long time
to figure out where you can lay on another persons arm
and that you like the way they curl their feet while sitting;
that sometimes you slur your words and don't say the last parts of them
and other times you even decipher my backwards language that only you can seem to understand-
you aren't just my home

you are my hope

writing about love and arms and sleeping next to someone you love
comes too easy even when you're supposed to be doing schoolwork
or simply showering but what a lonely party that would be
i want love raining down on me instead
and when you came around it was always pouring
but i wouldn't call this a storm
more of a "april showers brings may flowers" thing
because you make tiny flowers grow and the birds sing i swear

i know some of this may be a bit backwards but i know you'll understand

you always do