it’s not like he had a plan
it’s not like he was only gone from her for maybe three minutes tops
it’s not like he made sure nobody else touched her
it’s not like he trusted her to handle things
completely ditched her
what an asshole
Look at me like you look at your favorite pair of socks.
Just a glance, in passing —
to check that I’m there,
that I am warm,
that I can be yours when you need me.
Don’t call me beautiful.
Call me by the name my mother plucked
just for me, off the island whose trees
fleck my blood with olive and salt.
Let the syllables sing,
a Mediterranean wave cresting, crashing.
Before running a red light,
kiss your fore and middle fingers;
tap the car hood and think of me.
Make me your little superstition,
never a crutch or criticism,
but something brought to life with your breath —
something you believe in.
Love me. Love me simply.
So simply that we’ll forget
the word has to exist
between us at all.