I knew her since she was silent.
She knew me since I was mean.
She took my picture one afternoon.
I took her hand at a crossroad.
I have waited long for her to show up.
She waited for me to be late.
She wore dresses and all the pretty things.
I wore jeans and all my worries could fit in.
I had to learn to smile again.
She has to learn her worth.
She ran away for me.
I cried for help that once.
Her navel is my temple,
her hands are guidelines,
her feet teach me silence,
her mouth knows no hate.
Her back is the straightest I’ve ever known,
her knees, the loveliest sight,
her silence is the most patient.
Her skin holds onto dreams,
her hair shakes off the nightmares,
her legs scare off my demons,
her words keep me sane.
Her lips soothe my anger,
her arms hold me back,
her fingers draw futures.
I knew her when the world was no more.
She knew me as we begun to explore.
She knew me when pain was a state of mind.
I knew her as one of a kind.
My favourite time of the day,
my favourite colour,
my favourite place in the world,
my favourite odour,
my favourite quote in the book.
My favourite moment of silence.