Because of you, love,
I opened a stubborn door from New York to Michigan—
I thought it frosted over as I chased eastern lights for years,
Breathless.
Remember when I pointed out Orion in your parent’s basement?
We laughed at your blank ceiling and ourselves and your sisters,
Spread less like a sky full of planets and stars,
and more like a yard sale
of mismatched silverware and chipped vases.
Disjointed, lost, repurposed,
I imagined a new kind of home.
My heart ached for a young girl who never said ‘no worries,’
Who never learned the darkest magic of how to shrink
or shut up when they wanted her to.
A girl whose memories weren’t stained with red wine
And blurry from tears.
Because of you, love,
I can stretch out past the width of a waistband,
take up more than standing room,
and lick the tip of Pluto.
Because of you, love,
I rather be loved
than missed.
