Refill
I refill your coffee cup
each morning.
Is that enough?
I get in bed first and warm
the sheets
In cold winter.
Could I do more?
The trimmed lawn, the kids
after school,
The toilet filled with shit,
perfect toast.
Enough?
But that’s not the kind of
work love requires.
Intimacy, personal space,
emotional distance
Are just the names for the
puzzle
You and I drudge out every
day.
Sometimes you and I are you
and I
And sometimes us.
Sometimes a touch is enough
To bridge the crevice.
Sometimes an earthquake is
what we needed
To come together.
And still the love dream
shape shifts
Into fuzzy resolutions.
There is no end,
At least none we can see.
The answer is in the mystery
of each moment.
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