Six Year Believer

I never believed in us--

We were two kids stranded,

Loving each other because there was no one else to love

In that small town that made nothing

worth keeping anymore.

When you drove up to my house and knocked on the door,

When I jumped into your car and down your throat,

I knew then it was because there were

No other lips to kiss in the early snow

That stranded us on the side of the road

Until we dug your car out with red, aching hands.

I never believed in us--

Not in the moment you parted my arms

Folded protectively over my bare chest,

Not when we moved so slowly together,

Building a rhythm that would catch fire.

When you were the first person

To look at me.

No one ever looked at me

Like that.

And,

No one really has

since.

I never believed in us--

Not when you put on my clothes

To make me laugh,

Not when you’d talk and listen into

The finite hours of endless nights,

Or when you told me I was beautiful,

Or when you cushioned the blows

That I didn’t want to hear

And you didn’t want to tell me.

Not when I broke your heart first

Before you could break mine.

Jokes on me.

Because you broke mine back,

Twice in the row.

The first time

I believed in something,

You were one year and three hundred miles

From that little town with nothing worth keeping,

(Not even me)

And I visited your grandmother anyway.

She couldn't remember my name, but I believed

Her when she said it was nice to see me.

How could I doubt a woman

So pure of heart and clear of mind?

The second time

I believed in something,

You were three years and 9,000 miles

From that little town with the only things

In your life left that were worth keeping,

And I ran into your mother at the pizza shop.

I was with someone new, but I believed

Her when she said she missed me.

How could I doubt a woman

Who helped raise me?

The third time

I believed in something,

You were four years and three feet away from me

When lightning struck.

I couldn’t breathe, looking at your face.

I didn’t want to,

But I slid down the bar and closed the gap in one step.

You were there with that beautiful girl that I loved so much,

but I believed

You when you said you wanted to see me again.

How could I doubt you

When I had already cut you?

The last time

I believed in something,

You were 6 years and pressed up against my skin,

As if trying to climb inside it.

Six years since

I never believed in us--

And I didn’t,

Not all that time,

Not until just now.