There was a fire in you.
I should have noticed it months sooner than I did, but you were always so gentle. Still, I began to notice your determination; once you believed in something, you bled your whole self out for it, the way blood could fill your brain if you hit your head hard enough.
When we first decided that this is what we wanted,
I held your hand and tried to tell you that at the first site of my heart growing too big for you to hold, my knee-jerk reaction would be for my shaky knees to start running.
How could I have known that you were a runner, too;
I learned soon enough that your feet hit the ground as soon as mine did, and as we ran side by side, I realized that we were one and the same, and that terrified me– having to take care of a heart like mine.
We may not have matched on paper, but our souls were made of the same stuff.