There is loving you, before and after.
Each is no small matter of their facts.
Like before: as if within some singular place–
dark, ancient, secret–poised a joy readying itself,
jumped out into the openness, spurred by our being in-between.
Like after: your storytelling; the images it conjured; our shared language;
truths too “here” to remain veiled by petty doubt.
Truths like: loving, laughing, you.
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