supposing,

it's all been said before:
girl stumbles upon girl's journal; girl stalks girl;
girl finds common friends; girl tries to get closer; girl asks girl out to group dates;
girl asks for girl's cell phone number; girl texts girl every single day,
keeps up with the randomicity,
wakes up early to catch girl's texts as she walks out of their house in the morning on her way to work, something about the blueness of the sky, or the sound of birds;
texts every 4 p.m. to remind girl to breathe; (every 4 p.m. - it takes only so many days to form a habit)
texts every night to ask about girl's day;
keeps up with girl's journal; tries not to overanalyze.

supposing, it's all been said before:
how girl falls in love with girl--
it's the slightest gestures,
the off-topic questions,
the sparkly flashes that make their way between the words.

it's all been said before, how we got here, but i guess it's always worth re-telling:
one night, i started writing love letters again, after a long time.
you were a moment's message away, but the distance was there, more than ever before; it was august. at the time i had no idea how close i was to breaking.
(i should have known, actually, granted i was writing letters again at the back of marlboro labels; that night there were ashes on the floor from one too many fags)

it's no secret, how four years prior to that day, septembers had been particularly filled with a sort of dread. (i wouldn't call them mistakes; just that i remember them pretty well.)
the night before the morning after, i slipped
into bed alongside you, holding your hand under the sheets, trying to watch tv.

supposing it can be said then,
that the rest of it's history, well, let me put it this way, instead:
the day after and the days after that are more than i could ever have hoped for
to contain within a heart this small.

i guess in the end that's all i really want to say.