To say why I loved you would be challenging.
I have endeavoured before,
to grasp the ineffable
But every peculiarity,
however inscrutable
enriches the cherishing I retain for your whole vitality.
Like...
The profound way you brandish your smile at me when,
you catch me watching you for a second sustained too long

Don't be afraid I'll take your hand
I'll be by your side all the days long
You help me and I'll help you
And together we'll make it through
Together we'll make it Home

I'm finding I don't
have much to say
anymore unless
the sentence starts
with your name.

you hurt me
you are the moon that controls
the tides of my eyes

you are a dark moon
with thousands of craters,
thousands of imperfections

i have imperfections too,
but the difference is:
i think you hate me while
i love you

library books;
     the musty smell floods me with
     thoughts of its past readers
     did a girl like me
     run her finger across this line
     as i have?
     will our lines like vines
     ever intertwine?

rainy nights;
     while the tip-tap and dribble of
     droplets hit my windowsill,
     i imagine gusts of wind
     dancing with one another:
     carless and free
     and without destination

light touches;
     the accidental bump of elbows,
     the awkward entanglement
     of fumbling phalanges,
     a gentle squeeze of the hand,
     a comforting gesture that says
     “i am here.”

now reverie this:
     you and i,
     the spines of our books broken,
          our shoulders barely brushing,
               the sound of soft and subtle raindrops
          all things i adore in one simple
      and seemingly endless moment

books, rain, touches, and you