We danced at prom.
Ran away into the hotel room
and said I love you to a girl for the first time.
That was the last I ever
saw of you.
You taught me about romance
but also that women are bitches and that
I’d never fall in love again.
You had piercings in strange places
and listened to bands
that no one’s ever heard of.
I am still not sure if
we were real or I
studied you like a newly discovered tribe.
I was a gutless, unemployed writer. You
shone a light on me so warm yet felt like
the Yosemite Falls. I was ashamed
of dating a successful business
woman and I took it out on you.
We sat on the kitchen floor
of our new apartment eating pecan pie and
drinking warm beer. I knew you were the one.
Nothing compares to the feeling
of walking home to see your ring
on the counter. No note. Nothing.
I love the way you close your
eyes when you listen to Rachminov.
I love your scars. I love
the moles on your ear.
I love the strange purring sound
you make in deep sleep.
I love your handwriting.
I will love you to compensate
for every tear, heartbreak,
I don’t even care that I am repeating
“I love” because you’re the woman
I’m not afraid to use that word with.
“The Five Women I Fell in Love With” (via shilku)