The love of my life wakes me up in the morning with the rustleÂ
of boiling water and the pop of a toaster. The love of my life knowsÂ
to rub my back when I’m on the phone with my mom.Â
The love of my life wipes the dried lip gloss from the rim of my cupÂ
and teaches me to pick up after myself. The love of my life learnsÂ
to be patient because I can be a slow learner and I’m mad about it.Â
The love of my life knows how I want it and when I want itÂ
and how I like it and when I like it and when I don’t. Maybe you aren’tÂ
the love of my life, maybe this is just an outline of what I want my loverÂ
to pick up on along the way, since I’ve had so many “loves of my life”Â
in my lifetime. Because I love like that, with all of me in every momentÂ
we get, even if it’s only a few spare seconds before it’s time to give it up.
Because I’ve learned to remember us in moments:Â
in the sun,
                on the sofa,
                               in a twin-sized bed.
Because the full story isn’t always what I make it up to be, but I treasureÂ
the fragile and ephemeral state of how beautiful we worked togetherÂ
before we shifted apart, like plates of ice blanketing a lake making room
for spring. Because even though the mirror is dirty, I love to look at usÂ
anyway. Because maybe you are       the love of my life.
Because if I was thinking of someone after us, I wouldn’t really love you.
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