Te Amo, Alberto...

What You Were Before Me

I know I said I’d never ask
That the future I saw in your eyes
Mattered more than the trail behind you.

But still, my mind wanders:
Did they love louder than I do?
Did they kiss the parts of you
I’ve only dreamt of?
Did someone else laugh at the jokes
I thought were just ours?
Did they dance with you, too?
See that peaceful smile on your face
As you slept through thunder?

What were you before me?
Not just this smile, this skin I adore,
But the silent thoughts, the ache,
The wild, beautiful chaos I never saw?

Who held you in songs
Before my voice joined the chorus?
Who kissed your shoulder
Not knowing it was sacred?

I try not to ask,
To stay in this moment, our moment.
But sometimes, when you hum a tune
I’ve never heard,
I wonder whose echo it carries.

Still, I would choose you,
Even knowing I came after the prologue.
Even if I’m not the first to call you beloved,
I promise to be the one who never stops meaning it.

And the truth is:
I didn’t ask.
Not really.

I know I told you I stalked your past,
Filled notebooks with names and whispers.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.

Because when I met you,
You weren’t your past.
You were present.
You were here.
And that was enough.

Your goodness spoke louder than any story ever could
The way you hold the door,
The way you hold me,
The way you remember my laugh like it’s scripture.

I didn’t want résumés of heartbreak.
Didn’t need to weigh myself against ghosts with good timing.
I’m not here to dig through what you buried to survive.
I’m here for the man who rose.

Your past? Let it sleep.
Let it rot or bloom,
But don’t bring me its bones.
Because I didn’t come to exhume.
I came to build.

And if loving you now
Means never knowing what came before
So be it.
I have seen enough in your eyes,
In your hands,
In the way you say my name
Like you’ve never said it to anyone else.

I didn’t look them up.
Didn’t count your kisses.
Because your past is dead to me.
But you
You are alive
In every breath I choose.