He is different. 

So am I. 

A piece of my life, devoted to something 

something new

something shining

something different.

As if a veil has been lifted from my eyes, thin, thieving

I realize what I have missed.

This is not a thing I have had before, this love I keep in my back pocket

prim, pristine, imperfectly precious in its flaws.

This is not a thing I would ever give away.

You would need to rip it from me

tear my very flesh from the bones

sear the memory, the radiant soul sewn into fibers upon fibers of muscle and meat

the soul that is him,

because without cauterization I would bleed to death, cease to function, flatline.

He is someone I met by chance.

He is such a wonderful someone.

This someone 

somehow, someway, something 

so much some.

He is the some, the sum

of every part of himself, the good bad scared lonely beautiful parts of himself

and no matter what he thinks of some of the parts, I love the sum of the parts.

He is more than his sum.

He is a star

illuminating my universe, supernova light liquefying me, lustrous 

I am only an asteroid in his wake, orbiting

in awe of his flame.

He is comfort, constant.

I want to build a life around and with him.

Mortar to bricks, he holds my house of self together

our shared construction, continuously rising

into the sky of our future.

I love a someone, and a someone loves me back.

We, together, are a something, a sum

of us.