The Knowing

You told me you loved me,

and I told you I didn't know what love was.

There must have been something desperate in my kiss,

because you showed me oh so gently how it felt.

You moved my hand to the middle of your chest

and told me how it used to be achingly empty

but was suddenly filled to the brim.

I understood then what you felt,

because I knew that hollow spot well.

I knew each crack where everything spilled through,

and the places where the remaining dregs of happiness would collect.

I was scared, because all of a sudden I couldn't find any of that.

You fixed everything without my knowing and I felt like I would overflow,

I loved you quietly and didn't even know.