You’ll teach me how to skip stones on the ocean,
And I’ll teach you how to dance on the sand.
You’ll teach my heart to thaw what was once frozen,
And I’ll show you how to say words with your hands.
I’ll teach you ukulele, sat cross-legged on my bed,
And you’ll teach me how to cook, the way your Ba does it.
You’ll teach me not to listen to the horrible thoughts in my head,
and I’ll teach you about the Himalayas and the height of each summit.
We’ll both teach each other, what it means to feel free,
From judgment, from doubt, from the stares of onlookers.
We’ll learn from each other’s bodies as we tangle the bedsheets,
and soon we won’t care about the words spoken by others.
You’ve taught me more in these 549 days
than I could’ve ever learnt from a textbook or teacher.
That’s what I mean, when I hold your hands and your gaze,
And tell you, your beauty to me is your least important feature.