a.

i'm not good at compliments
or saying i love you
or saying anything at all,

but my first memory is with you,
and i have nineteen years of love
bottled up in my body,
right on stand-by for when
you get home
and i don't think a lot of words
are necessary because

our bodies may have grown taller
and our hearts may have grown smaller,
but you're still my lifeline
and you're still the rocks i cling to
in the storm.

(in class we had to say
who shaped us into who we were,
and i showed a picture of you
and me.
because you guided me down the road,
and even if you no longer hold my hand,
i know you'll still be waiting at the end,
like a lighthouse.)

they say blood is thicker than water,
i'm not sure it matters,
and i'm not sure it's true,
but you can curse everything you are
and your birth will still be the best thing
that's ever come from them,
and i'm sorry you waited so long
for me to tell you.

maybe a year from now,
you won't come home anymore,
and all we'll have is weekly messages
and wish-you-wells.

but if there's one constant, it's us
so don't worry.
this is nineteen years of stone,
of brick house love and concrete worship,
and no miles, or time between us
can tear it down.