Don't ask me why I love you.
You know happiness
is not what flows
through my veins to the hand
that writes of you. Of us.
Instead ask me why I love
the murky blue of your eyes
and your sideways tilt a whirl smile.
Ask me why I let you hold me close
when you know I hate being
warm when I sleep.
Don't ask me why I love you.
Because you already know.