You have beat with me since the first month. Danced, broke, healed, scarred,

beared with, carried, and punished me every second, every moment I breathed, you beat on.

You’ve raced at a lover’s touch or slowed to a low crooning song, ached when I grieved

and hurt when things fell apart. But because of you, I am healthy, dancing, moving,

getting stronger, getting tougher, and though you race for the sweet moments and crave

the kind words, it isn’t beauty that keeps us strong. You fight through the pain, the metaphorical

heart working with the literal brain, and perfect aorta, vena cava, pumping and pulsing and quietly

drumming along as I run, run, run long-legged, as I stand, as I fall, beating and working and letting me breathe. Until we are dust and you have gone bust, because of you, I live.