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.

JFC