Leaves fall in silent symphony,
each landing counting out the beats of my heart
as we lie among the golden autumn rain.
He loves me, he loves me not.

You are talking about the way the sun affects the growth of the trees
and some other time it will be the expanding stars
or the way everything works together; thousands of
tiny pieces that make up the world.

I won't understand but I'll listen as I do now,
focusing less on what you say and more on the way you feel
beside me;
warm,
against my shoulder and I can smell, faintly,
the Earl Gray you made this morning and the
crisp hint of your shaving cream.
The memories stretch between us and I count them as many as the
flitting expanse of gold above us.

I remember when I met you:
You were smug and that smirk
irked me in such a way that I hated you.
I hardly considered you a person.
You were lower than the dust and I didn't understand how I could
see so little of a man in a man.

Then you took everything, everything, everything from me
and you counted it as a victory
and I
hurt you without care and you took that from me too.
And when I needed you as a tool you called me fool
and said you
'weren't the hero type.'

I remember when I met you:
It was late and you wouldn't let me sleep;
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"
I yelled at you and told you to get out.
And for the first time you dropped
your eyes and
began to cry.
"Why don't you believe me?
You said forgiveness only
required repentance."

It had been so long; so much time compounded,
and I counted all the things you'd told me
as many as the passing days.
So many things, ripped from you.
Cruel, twisted fate.
Cruel, twisted people.
Who knew flying looked so much like falling?

Then I remembered what you took from me and
said, "I do,
but it isn't good enough."
And I ripped that from you too.

You broke me.
I had my own rules on what was right and what was wrong
and even if you were so twisted that you didn't
understand, you made me face all my
denied hypocrisy.
You refused to move,
forced me to think with
"You're hurting me."
I couldn't understand how I had
seen so little of a man in a man.

I broke you.
You had your own rules on what was truth and you had 'proof'
of grievances past as reason for grievances present.
And even if you didn't understand, I made you face all your
contemptuous justification.
I hammered and hammered until
I forced you to think with
"It's not about you."
You couldn't understand how it mattered
for a man to be simply a man.

It took me years
to accept and see
the sheep in wolf's clothing.

It took you years
to accept and see
that I was not holy.

But you see me now.
I see you, now.

You are chaos:
Pain and rage and bitter, bitter, bitter remorse and you
are the storm off the coast and the sunrise over the mountains.
Fierce, fierce, righteous anger that coils in your stomach and erupts in your eyes.

You are control:
Tight lips and clenched fists with the past ridged along your spine and
buried so deep.
Joy and curiosity and the shyest smallest smile
that makes every long late night worthwhile.

You are a frustrating, confusing, blundering idiot.
You make me crazy.

You are the shadow in my drawers,
gone before I can see it.
You are the echoing drip of my faucet:
there, there, there, there.
You do not ask. You do not speak.
You see my face and you know me
enough to be
there, there, there, there.
I am safe in the circle of those lanky limbs.

You are the twilight.
You are the dawn.

Now, as you wait for my comment, knowing it will be "That's pretty cool.",
you see that I am thinking and the usual
small smile graces your eyes even as you frown.
"Having trouble there?"
And I laugh, of course.
He loves me, he loves me not -

You'll never tell me, so
I lean over and kiss those startled lips,
finding the tea in the creases.
Your long fingers shyly brush mine and
your gentle breath floats against my face,
your dark eyes stretched wide with surprise and that pure
unadulterated joy.

I know what lies behind those eyes and why they say
'the saddest people smile the brightest'.

The memories stretch between us and I count them as so
many hurts and fears and awful mistakes and
laughs and questions and bricks tumbling down.

But you see me,
and I see you, now.

I pull away. "Hey."
You blink. "Hello?"
I smile and lie back against the leaves. "Tell me about the stars again."
You frown. "Okay?"
You return to your place,
shoulder warm against mine and deep tones explaining how the universe began
and how it grows and I don't understand.

But I love it. And I love you too.
And I think you love me, but you don't know it because
you are such an idiotic genius.

You glance at me, confused, and I smile and turn toward you.
I can smell the Earl Gray you made this morning and the crisp hint of your shaving cream.
The smile slips from my face as I trace
the stubbled line of your jaw. "Hey."
Your eyes are still wide and fixed above us as you frantically think, probably
'How can I - do I want to escape?'.
Then you suck in a deep breath,
knowing me and knowing you,
and what your next move will do,
you turn toward me to whisper "Hey."

We are a symphony.