You, too, were supposed to be a one-night stand. A quick fix. A conquest. A ten-line poem in my grand anthology of lovers.But you altered the narrative, you marked your territory on my timeline o that as I look back, I find I can neatly divide my more recent past into two unequal halves: before you and after.

I feel the ground slipping under my feet, and just as I am about to fall off the precipice, you draw out a rope and pull me into the safety net of your embrace. That's the thing - I can never trust you to rescue me, and yet you do. Unfailingly.

Beauty is something I cannot seem to take as a given. It seems to lie too disadvantageously in the eyes of beholders.