with a little help What I like about you is that although you must be some kind of daffodil, you aren't flowery. You take my inadequate words--the spit up results of meandering mixed up imagined memories and turn them into high minded notions. What I like about you is that you don't forget I love you when I forget that I do. What I like about you is that accidentally, everything I am is familiar to you. What I like about you is that we're each other's mothers and each other's daughters. I like that you're kinder than you hope to believe. I like that I can live with you and that you can live with me. I like that you don't know how far gone I would be if I hadn't bumped into you, if we hadn't collided--if you didn't hold me like you'd known me forever when I thought I didn't want to be touched and when I thought we were strangers |