love language

he undresses my mind first and

takes his time handling my heart

he brings me flowers in the evening

and coffee in the morning

and asks for nothing in return except for

my love.

He doesn’t gift crumbs.

He doesn’t gift silences.

He shows up and opens doors

and looks at me as if he could see

my soul.

His touches are both fire and warmth

and his mouth speaks to me in a different tongue

I’ve always known but never quite

understood before.

He is not from around here

but he’s quickly starting to feel

like home.


You say I don’t give enough but you just haven’t learned

how to listen to the unspoken

when you hold me close and I don’t run

that’s a sign I want you to stay

stick around past the sighs and you’ll find

that I have nightmares, too

and the same lump in my throat and broken heart you seem to carry around inside.

can’t you see we’re one and the same?

won’t you give this love a chance?