Last night was an example of
how it’s still there.
He didn’t feel like eating
so I blessed a few slices and put
some pizza aside for him.
But he didn’t want me to leave,
so we watched March of the Penguins
on the couch in the old spooning position.
I was falling asleep but I could feel
that he was awake.
His hand searching to pull down
my sweatpants and recreate what
we used to be good at.
And it was really good.
But I’m not falling over drunkenly
in love, I just feel proudly smug
knowing I still got it.