the art of loving you

thirty one.

i remember the night
we stole back the sky:
we took my sister's car
and drove for miles,
whipping past the highway signs
and singing out of tune,
her laughter sparking
the air around us.
we reached the place
where asphalt met dirt
and the only light
came from the reflections of our eyes
and we stood and looked up at the sky.
the moon was as bright
as her spirit
and she took my hand and whispered,
it's so beautiful.
i know, i agreed,
and i was in awe of how the stars
had finally returned
(oh how i had missed them.)
the sky was our own
and we owned the night,
her hand in mine
and she whispered
it's so beautiful.
her eyes were on the stars
but mine were on her,
and everything
was beautiful.