I Love You
i love you on lazy sunday mornings in december, when the sunlight crawls in through the shades and illuminates my heart.
i love you when i am sleepy,, when i've taken three doses of sleeping medicine and all i want is to be near someone.
i love you when i'm far away, been in a car for two states and frolicking in the ignorance of separation.
i do not love you when you sit beside me, behind the wheel, music too loud for sweet conversation.
i do not love you in your insecurity, five years of each other and still there is no trust when i say i crave you.
i do not love you when i've been away from the public, dissolved into my family and broken down by weeks of no interaction.
and if these things are irreversibly true, if i have no steady faith in the tender revolution your voice brings, do not blame me.
in five years i've blurted all of my tendencies, waltzed through every issue my mind has borne, handed my heart to you.
and here, in our fifth year, you choose to ignore these tendencies, refuse to acknowledge patterns, believe things will be different.
but i am still myself, love; i have been broken and beaten, fallen in and out of love repeatedly with you.
and in this time i have watched the moon rise far above our hearts and watched us grow apart.
for all the watching i have done, i was still surprised when i discovered that you weren't the only one who thought i could be different.
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