Why I Love You

Because a dream is something no one should be able to touch, and every second of every minute, someone, somewhere, is crying, and someone, somewhere, is falling in love.

Because the trees in my neighborhood are red and orange and yellow when fall finally decides to show up, and I can smell the cold, humid and sharp, and I hear it hissing, softly still, and I remember that night, years ago, when my crush took a bus after I asked him not to, and I am pretty sure no one shed a single tear inside that dammed midnight bus, that stupid night.

I love you because I was always picked last for the team, and I would cry delayed tears under the bleachers, and I would spend my evenings sitting on the floor in front of a bulky TV watching Star Trek re-runs, and I think we are a minuscule grain of sand on a massive beach in the middle of the Universe, and beaches in the fall are a poem by themselves.

I love you because daydreaming is my favorite pastime, and a lottery ticket cost is a low fare to pay for the hope it provides. There is a fake diary on my nightstand where my dreams unfold, and a pile of handwritten letters on my desk that will never find their destiny. And I love you.

Because shenanigans and gallivant are my two favorite words in the English language, and you are always in my sentences, and the clothes in my wardrobe are classified by color, but the books in my library are not classified at all, and I say Jesus Christ! a lot when I am frustrated, but I am not religious, and I don’t like chocolate, eggs, and peanut butter, and so my roomie used to say I was the Anti Christ.

I love you because a dream is something no one should be able to touch.