Believe it to be true
that the love of your life
will walk into a poorly lit bar
and at first you will think them
to be nothing.
Than slowly, with the right song,
tilt of the head, corny theatrical move,
they will become everything.
The last slow dance of the single life,
the other half of the blood
on a delivery room table,
the hand that distributes
the gems of your will.
