after all this time, all I really
know about you
is that you put on eyeliner
in remarkably straight lines,
that you drink your coffee
black every other morning,
that you don't like flowers
because they remind you
of how beautiful things
never last long enough.

all I know is the scent of
your perfume and the way
it lingers on my pillow,
the way you cry when films
have happy endings, what
you talk about in your sleep,
how you always read the
newspaper upside down.


ask me if I love you and
I'll tell you "I don't know":
but I know I love those
little things about you.