It is really obvious why.

It is really obvious why.

“Why do you love me?”

“It’s really obvious why.
Because like moonlight,
you made my scars beautiful.
You tasted like burning scotch
and honesty.
Touching your skin felt like a walk
on cool grass in Summer.
Because you were my metaphor.

You remember how we met?
It was a one-night stand
and after we had sex,
you took a pen and wrote poetry on my waist.
You gave me hickeys and poetry.
You didn’t know how to make me blush,
so you painted my cheeks red
with your lipstick kisses.
When I screamed,
you sang songs to me
and when I cried,
you wiped my tears away with your eyes
and then wrote poems
about how the tides were high today.
It’s often that humans use
words for loyalty
and actions like a back-stabbing knife.
You were different.
When we met, you said you didn’t know how to stay.
Sixty years later,
You’re still holding my hands.

Why do I love you?
It’s really obvious why.
I love you
because I don’t know how not to.”

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