The happiest day of my life

was the night we broke the rules, 
with whiskey warmed hearts, 
not knowing or giving a damn
about the consequence
of what happens next, 
but believing in something good.

Was so many nights
spent exploring 
the definition of want, 
like two kids 
dancing in the leaves, 
drunk and defiant
of gravity's spell.

Was the first morning
you spoke the words
that took nine months 
to form on your tongue, 
where I was born
in the future tense, 
bending a knee to the snow.

Was the ceremony 
of two kids
asking their friends
to bear witness 
to these childish promises, 
vows written 
on the backs of bar napkins,
saying look at us, 
how our dreams have grown.

Was every day
spent in ambivalent joy, 
oblivious to the mosaic
of endless numbered ways
our breaths have braided
themselves into chains
connecting our lives, 
inseparable as moon and tide.

Was standing on every foreign shore, 
your hand in mine, 
saying look, see, 
we are the same 
no matter where we breathe, 
no matter the beauty
that overwhelms these pleas, 
we hold each other up
like torches shining the way
to whatever tomorrow brings.