When someone asks me about you I don’t know where to begin.
I stand there blank in the face because my heart is already throbbing.
I fight gravity whenever I hear your voice.
I fall in love with strangers who’s eyes look like yours.
I look for you in places that no longer know me the way they used to.
Sometimes I talk about you as if I’m on the verge of your borders.
As if one more sentence is going to allow me to reach out and find you there.
On Sunday I found you in the thrift store.
On Tuesday I introduced you to someone new.
Today I found you sitting on my kitchen counter.
Someone called you, “cool.”
Someone told me you’re problematic and need to work harder.
Someone told me they wanted to meet you.
To love me is to love you.