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.