“Of course,” she said, lightly,

“When we’re old and grey,

I’ll make us something small and sweet, like

Dandelion tea,” she promised.

I nodded and smiled, and said okay, because that day melted into ice cream

And we kissed, tasting like

Rain-soaked asphalt

She took my hand and showed me the sky, pointed out

The world, outlined the universe, bathed me in the depths

Of endless seas, and endless minds

Now, she takes my eyes and guides them to her face, where I can see

Everything in the lines, creases, folds, of her smile

Her teeth, the perfect poem, from which she says,

“The ground is so much more than a future grave,” and she adds into this darkened earth

My heart, because I would gladly decay

With her

And I hope that it’s where we’ll meet, after life, side by side in death, and where

Our souls will break from body, careening into the air and smashing into each other, our

Broken pieces taking flight, where wing and wing are indistinguishable, and we are

The feathers

But she still, and I love her nonetheless, speaks of   

The secret to being

Alive, and the blueness of the air

“And think,” she’ll say, our lives on the very cusp,

I have, I’d say, and now I know that one makes

Only one, and two make only  

Us