In Dainohara park, where you first beat me at Scrabble
by easily 50 points and we walked the riverbank
hunting fireflies with the natives in the warm moonlight,
my heart grew like an echo, to hold the space
between us inside of it. And as the last of the fireworks
poured like a waterfall over the side of Edinburgh castle,
and we all sang Auld Lang Syne and hugged
in a huge circle, easily 15 of us, all out in the cold,
and you told me you loved me for the first time
on the way to the airport, my heart grew and grew
and grew. And for the year apart, my heart filled
into the shape of the internet - limitless and a vacuum.
I learned all your favourite video games and films
and remembered your memories as if they were my own.
My heart quickly wrapped itself around your heart,
and left my body and my hometown to be with you.
Such that when I came here, finally, the home we made
was not a place. Our home is the space between
our two clasped hands, the air caught in our kiss,
the ghosts of our former selves and the new lives
we will make together. This house is a house,
but together we are a home: limitless and anywhere,
an echo and a heart stretched to its full size
and always stretching more.