this is still a love poem.

you say, here is a casual reminder that i adore you

and i say, be not-casual about it, adore me un-casually,
pretend it’s really as big as it feels

sometimes i sound too much like a poet.

if there is going to be a sweaty body panting over top of mine,
i want it to be yours. cup my breast and call me sugar,
think about remembering to buy coffee when you’re inside of me.
this is a love poem.

we forget to put out the garbage on the right nights
and the milk goes sour in the fridge
because i’m trying that vegan thing again
and you’re never home to drink it. i buy it anyway.
this is a love poem.

i know it’s never really as big as it feels.
someone looking in from the outside will always see something
unremarkable. i’m okay with that. watch me
misplace my metaphors.

watch me put down my pen long enough to
slide into bed with you and press my cold feet up against
your warm legs.