Most people have lost the power,

of those three little words.

But not you,

never you.

You give the words new meaning.

Making me feel like the stars are strung up

In the depths of my soul.

But if I’m the stars,

you form the constellations.

You keep me ordered,

structured.

All with those three little words.

I wrote a book about you once,

the story only I can see.

Soft pages filled with hushed confessions.

We were restrained, shunned by norms.

You were drowning, I offered my hand.

But, oppression lined your pockets.

And deep down,

I knew you’d rather sink,

than breathe with me.