He is my apricot dream

a mass of chestnut curls.

His jokes are his secrets masked.

I think about him more often than I don’t.

He is the kindest thing that’s ever happened to me

and the nicest thing I’ve ever done for myself.

He makes me so happy I feel guilty.

He makes me so content I feel nervous.

I wish he would make my bones into wings.

He found the buried doubt and dug it out.

He saw through to the root and decided to leave it where it was,

decided that he would let me keep it,

that it was pretty, that I was pretty.

When he kisses me now he knows he has to

not because he wants to,

I am a wind-up toy,

ramble on about nothing important,

he no longer pretends to listen.

But how happy we will both be

knowing that after this we knew what it means to know,

that we are capable of it,

good at it when we try.

And how happy we will both be

in knowing the gratitude

of knowing we both can love.