Why do they call it falling in love
When its less like falling, and more
Like a gentle slide, a slight rock backwards,
Tipping over, gliding to rest.
It comes in slowly like the tide—
Waxing, until like the moon, its clear
full and bright as we lift our faces to see it,
except I was only looking at her—
Brought about by the look in her eyes,
the long conversations, hours of
sitting in my car, not needing to do
or say anything, just sitting, the first kiss,
the nights that get later and later
as we share more and more,
dinners, lunches, and breakfasts eaten
together, losing track of time,
ignoring the future, talking about
our favorite music, tattoos we want,
and the constellations,
standing together in the bookstore
reading to each other,
playing her songs that I wrote for her,
refusing to fall asleep, then falling
asleep holding her,
time, time, time spent together
slowly builds until I look at her
and realize
I fell.