Supposed to Be

I'm grinning, blushing as I talk, smiling through my words,

and your name is smooth, honey coming out of my mouth.

I can't stop talking, gushing, ranting, raving,

in a way I haven't done in years, maybe not even then—

this happiness, security, with no anxiety attached is new.

I ask anyone who will listen:

It was always supposed to be this easy, wasn't it?

Everyone prior is suddenly so clearly, completely wrong,

like maybe I have never loved anyone at all until I met you.