Seven

I wear your sweater mid July

just to have apart of you touching me

as I sleep above the covers

I dump fresh coffee down the drain

after seeing you come to the door

holding two cups in your hands

I say “I just love you”

to my own surprise

only a week or so after our first kiss

I meant it in a sense of adoration,

getting caught between a handful of kisses you

were giving me

It was sudden and rash and unadvised

And I didn’t think I meant it in a context of “Us”

but I do believe a part of me knew, conscious or

not

of what was to come,

Even then

And now

Seven months after that cup of wine and river

walk

My heart still skips a beat every time you walk in

a room

I once avoided connection,

out of fear of being hurt by the one I love

but I don’t think I ever wanted to come out of

this unscathed

a sculpture is only stone until put under the knife

You have made me a beautiful thing