The first time I let myself admit I love you was in a poem.
I can't voice the words
but somehow they fit in verse.
I wish you loved me back -
Me, with a heating pad, complaining about my period
Sleeping for 14 hours because we need to adjust my meds (again)
Giving my son a bath
burning cookies
kneading bread
Domestic.
Instead, I think you love
me, with a book and a highlighter
undressed to the waist,
prone on the bed
reading some dull intellectual text,
with your fingers buried in me up to the knuckle
your hands around my neck.
I hope Good Earth us is happy -
because this sucks.
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