before you were even mine you reached inside of me
(in more ways than one) you pulled the sadness out of me
and all the secrets I have kept since I was old enough to know
how to keep them. you kept them for me (safe)
and before you were even mine we danced
in a room crowded with people and I got lost
in you (completely and utterly lost) like my feet were being
dragged but for the first time I felt what it was to hope.
to hope for unconditional understanding, for lust
that was drawn from more than just whispers
and a shallow late night text. before you were even mine
you held me in your arms and I felt like I was
in the palm of your hand.
before you were even mine I was yours already.
the first time
I lost you, even,
was before you were mine.
friends (best) was a word we used from the beginning
the same one we are now using after the third time I lost you.
Now I lay beside your ghost and wonder were you ever really mine
or was I (along with my secrets, my body, my heart)
was I just yours?