Art by Rita Keri | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest
A Half-Hearted Explanation on Why I Still Haven’t Completed My Change of Address Forms
This isn’t lust across the top of a coffee machine anymore.
This isn’t sticking straws in my mouth,
holding hands where nobody can see,
alone in your car.
This is real, dirty, grimy, love.
Love not hiding behind a bar counter anymore.
This is me, arriving with sixteen cardboard boxes
and putting all our skeletons into a shared closet.
This is you, with a sink full of dirty dishes,
buying me a new laundry basket,
saying “we can clean the mess up here.”
Maybe we’re not doing this right.
A love so heavy it might crash through the floorboards
and fall five floors.
A love so loud neither of us can fall asleep in the same bed.
A love that doesn’t fit into a two bedroom one bathroom
with city views.
Maybe love only looks good in the dim lights of a nightclub.
Maybe love only works when you don’t say it so loud.
Maybe it doesn’t function when you make scream in the forms of
matching bath towels
and new soap brands.
Maybe love wasn’t meant to share a mailbox.