I told her that she wasn’t everything
to me. She was the only one of the
two of us who knew that I was lying.
The sky was never as faded blue as
her jeans, jeans that held more than
just a universe behind their seams.
When we first held hands, I thought
so much about what everyone else
I was driving and you were holding my hand,
In both of yours.
You were sleeping and our fingers were tangled together,
And I think I knew this was right,
When I realized I didn’t know where my touch ended
And yours began,
And they both felt like home.
I’m not afraid of much, not even love, but some things I’ve learned, I’m better staying away from. That does not, however, mean that I don’t believe in them.
My parents met in ‘92. The first time my father saw my mother, it was over lunch with a friend. He went home that day and told his whole…