Oh the Military, fight for the free
Oh the Marines, don't take him away.
He is my guidance in the darkest hour, and my message in the dark pending a response from the light. He is a spectacle, shining brightly even though it does not suit. His personality is mine to unravel and band and twist into my backbone.
The violent merge of kaleidoscopes, dozens of evaporating star particles, fluctuation at the stem; my leaf is growing. He was the bulb. He was alone before he met me, quiet, a normal guy.
'No girl has ever had a crush on me when I was little, or put love letters in my backpack, my friend got them ALL the time, no girl liked me when I was little..'
Him saying this makes my specialness to him feel all the more real. Being his first kiss is not an achievement or upper hand, in my mind it is something; That golden plaque I hang above my bed that says ' I may not have been here first, but I am not a scar, nor a flesh wound, I am a speckle... that makes his muscles contract at an ease; 'I love you' is what I have achieved. Oh Marines, don't take him away.