She is solid
an unmoving river that has coincidentally
washed all my sorrows away.
And if it were not for her
I don’t know if I would have
both my legs to stand on
or both my lungs to breathe
as they beat in my chest
reminding me that I am still alive.
And I’m alive.
That’s the miracle of it all
that reminds me to be grateful
when I get out of bed each morning.
I’m still here
with both my hands and my heart
and my sickly brain
And she is the only reason I breathe
she is the only obstacle.
I know not the countless hours I have waited to hear you speak my name,
to hear your voice dance through my eardrums, once again,
pirouetting its way to my heart.
I know not the number of days I have counted on my nimble fingers,
anxiously waiting and wondering when I might be graced with your encouraging presence,
with your superior divinity.
I know less of many subjects, but of you,
I know well enough.
I know the curve of your jaw,
the touch of lips,
the glint in your eyes,
and the love in your heart,
but I know not where you are.