You, Always You | A poem for my boyfriend

I met you in winter,

when the world felt sharp,

and you were sharper still

a bitter wind wrapped in skin,

a snarl behind angry eyes.

I didn’t like you.

You were cold,

like the kind of silence that hurts.

But even then,

something in me stayed.

A black cat with claws out,

back arched, hissing his warning at the world.

You curled up in my chest

and made it his home.

You let me in slowly,

like snow melting on warm stone.

You held me when I cried,

called me pretty when I felt broken,

told me I was loved

when I couldn’t love myself.

And I believed you.

Because your voice,

gruff and quiet,

was the only one

that didn’t ask me to be anything

but me.

But sometimes…

I get scared.

Scared that one day

you’ll slip through my fingers,

that my softness will be too much,

that my broken pieces

will cut your hands, that you'll stop reaching for me.

I fear you’ll leave.

That I won’t be enough.

That the love you give

will run out.

But even in that fear,

I choose you.

I choose the bitter and the sweet,

the silence and the softness,

the sharp edges and the quiet warmth.

I choose the way you look at me

like I’m something worth staying for.

You are my black cat.

My Jupiter.

My one and only.

And I will love you

even if you’re bitter to others,

even if you’re cold to the world,

even if the universe doesn’t understand you.

Because I do.

And I always will.