March 3, 2008
Mine
Why do I love you? You always ask.
Perhaps its for your words, the beautiful eloquence that makes me sigh,
Maybe it’s because of the veins on your arms that hold me so tight.
But I suppose those will someday fade as all beauty.
Maybe it’s because you can sing me to sleep with a cabaret tune.
Or dance across the stage, rat-rat-a-tat rat-rat-a-tat.
Do I love you because you’re as broken as I,
Most likely. But our broken hearts make one far greater than the parts.
How many times today will I kiss your face,
And how many more will I need before it’s enough?
Why do I love you? You ask once again,
Because you make me laugh harder than I’ve laughed before.
We giggle and paw like lovesick school children,
But if these things must someday fade.
Why do I still need to hold your hand down every street?
Why do I still get butterflies when I hear you coming home from work?
Why do I lay up waiting for the sound of the elevator door to know you’re safetly home to me?
Because at nine months I love you more each day than the last,
Because I see myself in you and am willing to learn.
Because you want to move to France with me to raise a family.
Because we promised we’ll grow up together but never get old.
Because we can take care of each other forever if we want to and never grow tired.
Because you leave love notes on pink hearts for me to find.
Why do I love you? You always ask.
I think it’s because of the way your cheek wrinkles next to your mouth when you kiss my face.
Or perhaps, how I hold you to my breast when you have a bad dream and cover you in my love.
I know that I love you because you’re my other half.
I know that I love you because you cherish me.
I know that I love you because of the way your skin feels.
I know that I love you because no one could ever match this completely.
Why do I love you? You always ask.
I guess I don’t really know, I suppose I just do.
