Our poems

The warmth in my chest has its source in you

(For you see)
I have a you-shaped heart

Who is the poet here
The one who holds the pen?
The one who makes it dance?

The poet is the form we make when we embrace
Our atoms meeting
In the most lovely way

The poem is:

The flavour of the dinner you cooked for us
The way you take care of my friends
When you put on my favourite shirt of yours because we’re going out
The smile in your eyes when you make me laugh
Your concern when I’m unwell (sorry)
Your patience when I self-sabotage (sorry again – and thank you)
Your words to me when we make love
The jokes you crack
Your question: Do I mansplain?
My reply: a straight no, and a kiss
My pride in you
Our division of labour
Our routines
Our conversations
Our inside jokes
Our fights
Our post-fights hugs and grateful tears

The whole mess & sparkle of it all

Our mess
Our poem

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