Writing about love was so easy before I met you.
Romance could be traced by words – and it made sense, or so I thought
Because you know everything at 19.
Because you know everything about love before you find love.
Because we are so wise in our own eyes, huh?

Now a few catchy lyrics can’t even touch this.
This thing.
Because it’s real now. It’s actually alive.

Sometimes I watch it breathe, chest up and down.
I imagine its lungs filling, and letting go –
The heart full of love blood.
Pumping to every part.
Pumping to run and eat and walk and kiss.

[we don’t even know what we got yet]

Now pretensions are washed away,
Like cut off callouses down the drain.

And love is functionable.

Functionable for something to grow outside of ourselves,
From within our sewn together skins.

But it’s better this way.

I love you, yes.
Your temple smells the sweetest in the morning sun.