she came to me dressed in dreams
of a better, brighter day after
of hope and wonder
of new experience and remembered optimism

the hazy shimmering fabrics
hypnotic in their constant peripheral shifting
seemed to sing to me
alien but familiar instruments and songs

she is impossible in her reverence
unimagined miracles simmering under the surface
barely concealed promises
and whispers of inconceivable marvel

melodies more vibrant, colors more vivid
words flow unimpeded into lavender calligraphy
fears of a null future mere apparitions in the candlelight
easily dismissed and ignored in perpetuum

…aim every day to make her happier than she makes you…

when all was bent and turned to smoke
when the last vestige of anticipation had turned to ash
when the fire and the rose had become one
elle est venue à moi vêtue de rêves

you’ve shown me one important thing
that no one has ever been able to show me
before

not that I’m handsome
not that I’m smart
not that I’m caring
not that I’m funny
not that I’m sweet

none of that

you’ve shown me something more important
than any of those things:

you’ve shown me that I am important
that there’s a reason I’m here
that the world is lucky to have me

there were moments
spread across decades
when I thought the path was lost
or maybe just imagined from the outset
though hope remained ever-present
and I kept taking single steps
(directionless steps better than no steps at all)

looking everywhere
but finding nothing resembling an idyllic destination
that I imagined I would discover
along the trail
just another landscape
littered with empty bottles
photographs and half-filled pages of scribbling
cigarette butts and broken guitar strings
detritus, evidence of
amusing myself to death

moving forward in space, in time
a drifting woolgatherer
feeling aimless but somehow correct
with each decision

sometimes trusting the moon as my guide
or lines from books or songs
sometimes stumbling
sometimes falling
but always trusting that I felt a pull

and then…

that pull became real
though I couldn’t know it at the time
a simple beginning
mostly words that flowed like an undammed river
of Vonnegut and Eliot
of music and bad jokes
and talking in your sleep

I could never have guessed
sitting states away in a gentle snowfall
and yet somehow I knew
that I had found my signal fire
the flare that could lead me
if not home
then where I was supposed to be

and it was then that I discovered
that there is a difference
between feeling happy
and being distracted from sadness

a win is a win
sweeter still when rare

whether something small and silly
like a trivia game or a crossword
or more meaningful
like the perfect chord or choice of phrase

sometimes I wonder:
if you could see yourself through my eyes
hear your song through my ears
kiss yourself with my mouth
caress your cheek with my fingertips
crave your touch and kiss and words with my every breath…

sometimes I wonder:
would you believe me then?
would you believe the words I say and write?
that, I think, would be a victory of the highest order

(and it occurs to me that
I’ve showed more of myself to you
than any other person in my life)

if there were a timequake
and I was forced to relive the last decade
every choice that led to misery
every jagged drunken night alone and afraid
every regret and missed opportunity and loss

…well, there’s not even a debate, is there:
that I would relive every moment
ten times over if needed
just to have this time with you again

for all that is wrong with this timeline
the injustice and cruelty and unpredictable nonsense
I can’t imagine missing connecting with you

I think this mood ring fingernail polish is funny;
I wear it on your finger, with my half of our ring
and it changes red to black and back often
but my mood for you is constant and warm.

a win is a win
sweetest of all when unique
and unexpected