Ace for short

It was eighth grade when we met.

I found you in a forest of numbers and codes.

You were sitting in a taskbar tree with button leaves,

your many siblings resting around you.

I knew them.

By name even.

It was you I couldn’t place.

I walked up to you and asked for your name.

“It’s A,” you said.

“But you can call me Ace.”

“Ace,” I repeated.

I liked the sound of that.

“You two look a lot alike,” Bi piped up.

“I’m sure you’ll be great friends,” Pan chimed in.

“I’m sure too,”  I said.

You and I took a walk through the forest of numbers and codes.

You told me a bit about yourself

but I couldn’t focus.

Your shiny purple hair

was too brilliant.

I met my soulmate that day.

I didn’t know if it was love.

Some say it was the exact opposite.

They were just mean.

I walked with you proudly,

introduced you to my friends.

They liked you, of course,

even if they couldn’t say exactly who you were.

I still walk with you proudly today.

You made me see another world,

one where love is not attached to the hip

of the physical.

You convinced me

I’m okay.

I know you’ll never leave me.

For that, I thank you.

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you