there was something always right about us,
the way your masculine hand would fit almost perfectly into my feminine one.
the feeling of when I'd pass you in the hallway and time would stand still
like you see in the movies or read in a cheesy book.
or at night, when you'd stay awake
until I had fallen fast asleep in your arms.
it felt like it was only us,
and it always would be.
just us.
