Here we are, on earth together, it's you and I, God has made us fall in love, it's true; I've really found someone like you. Will it stay, the love you feel for me? Will you say that you will be by my side, to see me through, until my life is through? In my mind, we can conquer the world, in love, you and I.
It's inevitable: I listen to Michael Bublé and get sentimental. I remember the night my recent ex-boyfriend and I slow-danced to the song You and I in my small apartment: lights out, candles lit, locked in each other's arm like pieces of a puzzle that finally found their match. So close, not afraid, feeling at home: you and I. On bus 66 tonight, headphones in, song on repeat, my eyes moisten, I get nostalgic; what am I to do with this sad energy in my lap, seated first row? I honor the memory: bodies entwined swaying in sync; the feeling of warmth, safety, love and belonging. Eyes half-closed - slowly blinking, like a cat shows love.
Song on repeat: you said, "I think God made you for me." I believed you: I finally found someone like you. You emphasized spending your life with me and growing old together, so I moved in.
Will you say that you will be by my side, to see me through, until my life is through? My body reacts, as if a poison wants to be hurled out of my mouth. I notice.
It wasn't all slow dances and intimacy; I got breast cancer and you told me to move out. Apparently, as Bublé says, conquering the world, in love, you and I was, indeed, in my mind.