“Tell me a story,” you said, 

“One that wows, then slowly drifts me to sleep.” 

How about I tell you the one first formed years ago, 

Yet unfolding still, 

The one about the girl who stayed a girl into her adult years, 

The girl who struggled to understand, exist in, be but so vulnerable to 

The world, until one day, as if by some unconjured magic, 

She found her place in it by your side. 

The girl who withstood too many winters 

Kept burrowed deep, her path toward the sun so lengthened 

She was already wilted when she first broke free from all the dirt, 

Was half-bloomed until one ordinary Spring morning when 

She surprised the world by breaking full into flower. 

The girl who slowly began to know herself, 

Picked up the wilted pieces of her life with dirty fingers all too used to clawing, 

Assembled them into something almost whole, 

Then met you, something still missing within, 

Love helping her figure out what belonged in that space, 

How to begin to fill it, 

Finally allow her arrival to that place in time, 

Her origin story, 

To be so indelible she could face the dark, 

Slip back into earth some days, return full of blossom. 

Yes, I’ll tell you the story of the girl who rewrote herself, 

Showed up on your doorstep a new woman 

Petals of a once forgotten perennial finally open to the sun, 

A woman ready to write and co-write new chapters, 

Fall deeply into a love that lights the path hard to navigate, 

Become, with you, full-bloomed.