The 6th

I liked breakup songs

but she listened to love ballads.

Maybe that's what it was,

different tastes,

different face,

kept me off balance.

We met in the middle.

she joked so much,

she thought I may have thought

she was childish.

Out of her beautiful lips

came mountains

of wildness.

I summoned

mountainous courage

to grab her by the hand

like Obama

with a gallant shout of,

Yes we can!

See,

when I met her on the 6th

I had already fallen for her personality.

Vibes screamed of duality:

a lady, a mother, a lover -

She was all those things at different times.

She was sass

with a dash of compassion.

An old soul

cloaked in a fountain of youth;

she was, what's happening.

She was soft

without ever tryna to be.

She was tough

when I felt she didn't need to be

or simply

when her ego refused to breathe.

She was my tropical storm,

a hurricane.

An amalgamation

of a lot of different thangs.

When I met her

I found a home.

She insisted I take my shoes off at the door

and tread lightly over the floor.

Beneath my feet I walked on what was sore

broken heart pieces,

disappointment,

and so much more.

But we held hands

through the hallways

and made promises

to build new floors.

the foundation should be heavy

that's why I wouldn't cheat time

or the process.

I met her on the 6th.