Of DMC’s and bus drivers
You make me laugh until I cry because I've never been good at holding in things that bubble out like that. And I look at you in the low light and learn what Dr Suess means about finding the bright places. And you look at me like you’ve found a part of me from years ago when we were learning how to be each other’s friend and had our hands full will these massive hearts, had our hands full of so much good. Like we’re back to when every 3am was an adventure into one of our minds. You look at me and I swell over out of love for you. See I haven't loved myself for a while now and you’ve still loved me through it all. And I know it must have been hard to see me lose belief like that, to see me twist things inside of myself that used to look the same as yours, to see me think that I need to change. The thing is, you travel 121 miles to see me and when I say ‘see me,’ I mean so that you can look into the soul of me.
And your eyes say, ‘my god you’re so worthy’
and I ask, ‘of what?’ and they tell me
‘of everything.’
You make me laugh until I cry because you're wearing two odd socks and I have a pair balled up the exact same. Because before we got home the bus had pulled away without you and I had hit the closed doors until the driver opened them. We sat at the top, black ink of the sky rolling before us and I saw you break, saw you say,
“I’ve never seen you fight like that.”
And now, the tv light flickers over your face; one of my only soft resting places in the world, and I say,
“Your love makes me want to fight.”
