when i greeted you with
"you!" and a pointing finger,
i meant, how?
how did you do that to
my heart?
how did my doors open
with one gentle knock?
how have you got this
stomach of mine feeling
so alive?
that morning, that precious
16 of December,
i remember not having to
pull my blinds down;
maybe this time my insides
matched the light filling up
the room,
the light i usually bury
with my bed sheets.
when i greeted you with
"you!" and a pointing finger,
i promise it wasn't
an accusation, i just didn't
have the words to tell you that
you made the sunshine
hurt a little less.
- 16 December 2017
- crimsyy
a/n: as i noted on the inside of the front cover of the art journal you gave me: a very special day.
