Who knew how
my breath would escape?
Who knew that the ultimate
taking care of someone
would make me shine
and gleam under dim lights?

Who knew that eyes would lock into each other,
and rays of vision would crush against each other,
slowly and the groves would skid each other?

Who knew that the shimmer
could spark something?
Who knew that bruises didn’t exist—
at least not on the outside?

I’ve never felt so rested
with such little sleep.

And I’ve discovered that that time and space are relative.
And I’ve found that I’m happy when sober and high.

Who knew that suddenly
I could love my body
more than I ever have?
Rolls and creases and all?

She knew.
And finally,
I will be taken care of,
wholly and fully.
She knew.