And he loved you. He didn't know how to love you but he loved you.
I know it and I don't know what it means to you. Cuz I feel it now. I feel it now all over again and new. And I've been meaning to explain it to you and now it's on my mind and it would only be a cause for dispute so I won't.
But he loved you. He never understood what it took to love you but with his overachieving heart in confused heaven he loved you.
And she kisses me on the face with her heavy lips. And I can't stop on hers. And time is a cloud that hovers over love. And what we spill is alchemy and brave and sizzling and leaves imprints on the planets before the rains.
And I want to keep it to myself. I want to keep it quiet and contain it like a bird then let the inevitability set it free and not wait for it to come flying back to me but rather fly after it and share the same sky with her.
And the sky is a big place and her and I can share a big place.
And I'm not afraid. I have proven myself to pain. And I let the hurt point me in the right direction.
And he loved you. I remember the way he'd ask about you so many years later. How he'd try to play it cool, like a curious ironic observer but the way his doctor's voice changed it was like a wave swept through him and it didn't diminish him it was expansive and he was a version of love in those moments and it was imperfect like all love. But he did, he loved you. And you don't need me to say it because it recognizes you.
And thank you for your imperfect love. Thank you for your imperfect love. Thank you for imperfect love. Thank love for imperfect you. Thank you love for bringing me her. Thank you love for bringing me love. Thank you love for hurting me and giving me a profound reason to live in every form.
And love is common I believe but sometimes it takes uncommon people to remind us of this fact in our nature