Love is rose colored glasses.
With smudged mishaps and
Misspokes.
Treasuring the tripping words
dripping out of your mouth.
Proud of the pursuit of the
combined two sounds
purely by accident.
Because
it’s a little breath of originality.
Love is awkward hand placements looking like
marble art
and zits that slowly
turn to constellations;
And if I squint, that sweat bead dropping down your forehead looks like a shooting star.
Love is briefly closing my eyes to make a wish
On your forehead ***
and maybe
part of me
is afraid
it might
come true.
But
In this moment,
I'm glad to have you.