I want to pull out sentences,
string out words like constellations on my skin,
paint a freckle for each feeling; 
visible even to strangers. 

Last night I had my arm around you,
the you that I had only imagined before,
the someday and future you,
the once in a blue moon you. 
Your breath sounded like a train pulling into the final station, 
a long journey finally ending.
Each exhale saying:
You are home now. 

I want to talk, 
mostly about how looking at you has woken me up: 
to who I am, and
to what we could have.
But also: 
to every compromise, 
to every heartache,
I thought I’d have to bear.
They have never been needed here.
You have given this grey-ace the grace she never knew she deserved. 

But still – I don’t know how to say it. 
Each word is like a child learning how to walk,
stumbling admissions as I fall
again and again
into the arms 
of the one who loves me.