You are not the first person I have looked at with my
heart in my eyes;
I am not the first person you have loved.
Our love came unannounced in the middle of our own
personal disasters,
but you were the first to fill the holes in my heart
with something more meaningful than
dirt,
and when I had asked you to give me space
you didn't even hesitate to offer me the universe.
I have come to know loss as familiar as the sharp edge of
a knife. We have both lived through
broken promises like a vinyl stuck on repeat in the
echoes
of the night,
sipping on bottles of wishful thinking and hope.
I will write love notes on the inside of your
mind and whisper
silhouettes of hope to the spaces of your mending heart.
I will press promises into your skin like
flowers in a book
and you will know acceptance like the back of your own
hand.
You are not the first person I have asked not to leave,
but I know you'll be the first to stay.
I found love in your laugh.
You were not my first love,
but you are my last.
I will love you when you are the light of day;
I will love you when you are a hurricane.