Why is it that every night
I change into my pajamas
Only to remove them
Ten minutes later
As I climb into bed
In my undergarments?

I reckon it is the routine
That calms me from my day,
Shedding the skin of
One day to embrace another.
It is the preparation
For my seven hour 

Sabbath where I rest 
From my seventeen hours
Of work, play, and relationships -  
Responsibilities that keep me
Too busy to take a moment
And enjoy the skin I live in. 

So each night,
I must shed that skin
In reflection of the day
That is now gone,
And rest as I prepare
Myself for another day.

Another day of busyness,
Another day of striving,
Another day of trying my best
To be the man you have
Created me to be...
To embrace who I am
In every waking moment.

I don't want a Hollywood love.
I don't want a hot pink, blazing hot love.

I want my love to be cotton briefs.
I want my love to cradle that which I hold dear.
I want my love to be gentle and soft,
But only I can feel it.
You don't share your underpants
As such I don't share my love. It is only mine.

I want my love to make others feel uncomfortable when I talk about it. Because the more I rant on, the more they realize that while sometimes it sounds constricting, it keeps you all together when you need to move.

I want my love to be marked with my last name.
To have and to hold forever.
Because I know that my love will be with me
Through all the ****, all the *******, and every last bit of life.
Even if my love rides up every once in a while
I know that it's just trying it's best. And I love my love for that.

worried glance struck down,
laundry hangs dry in her eyes,
underwear forlorn.