two years ago.
two years ago, to the day.
we climbed on two vans on a misty morning
and drove for the mountains.
it was cold. in the backseat I laid my head
on your shoulder. I was happy.
that night, we sat on the creaky steps surrounded
by handprints, red and yellow and blue, cradled steaming
mugs of tea and whispered as the rest settled into sleep
stacked into bunks and sprawled on mattresses.
we were happy just to be with each other, to sit and breathe
and be and know we were wanted by someone that mattered.
we asked important questions in the quiet. we would ask even more
important questions later. we would cross terrifying, beautiful
lines that could not be uncrossed.
by the end of the week, I knew that I loved you.
to be honest, I knew long before then.
two years ago.
two years ago, to the day.
I love you still.