I'm not sure how these things work,
but we seemed to come together
through conversations and mocking arms.
My life had an affair with me
for seven years. No one knew,
as I loved the mundane.
******* in the air, body in the water,
quietly, we inhaled through our noses.
After the army, we stuck together.
Me and the mundane
put our arms around each other,
and of course, one thing led to another.
The mundane became my coffee,
daily, unremarkable, commonplace,
and perfect every time.
Really, what business did anyone have
making our love about them,
when we were interested in nothing but ourselves?