It was forty-five degrees and raining,
the day I realized I couldn't resist you.
A wave of wind and flooded pools on the road
swept up and carried off my car
and we sailed across unknown territory
without a map.
It was twenty-nine degrees and snowing
the day I realized I wanted you.
The smell of asphalt and ice still linger
and I can track the scent back to the moment
where our eyes met and I silently begged them
to never part.
It was fifty-one degrees and cloudy
the day I realized I loved you.
I can still feel the texture of the glass
and the magic of the fingerprints left behind
as they met our heritage on the other side,
a reminder that we are all connected.
It was seventy-two degrees and neutral
the day I realized I couldn't live without you.
There was music in the background
and bright lights along the ceiling.
But time stood still just long enough
for you to wrap your arms around me
and they seemed to fit like no article of clothing
It was eighty-eight degrees and dark
the night I realized I was mistaken.