Of Luck and Love

Sometimes, I forget
how lucky I am to have you
drawing constellations between my freckles,
kissing the spaces between my fingers,
the gaps between my vertebrae.

You are the second half of me,
filling the places where I am empty,
mostly,
of masculinity

and you catch my nightmare
in the length of your lashes,
became my safe-house when I used 
to cry myself awake
and shaking,
and always, you were there.