How I stare at our ceiling
the dust that still clings to the light
because yes, we would argue
and yes, we would fight

but my hand will always reach out
for your neck and your thigh
how we knew it was true love
so we didn’t even try

and how you made it so easy
for me to write and to rhyme
when you came back to me in June
and said “I think about you all of the time”