The way we love is quid pro quo. I’ll give you mine
if you give me yours. We are keen on exchanging
parts of wholes: my nimble fingers on your spine
for a soft pillow to lay my head upon, your free
time for my girlish laughter, my trivial poems for
even the smallest fraction of your heart. Give and take,
sow and reap. We love in the language of fair trading.

Dearest part to whole, if I could I would give you everything
for nothing in return. My favorite records, my best words
all dressed up and sparkling in their Sunday best. I’d tie
curly ribbons around every memory of ours held together
with Scotch tape and tacky Christmas wrapping paper.
For you I’d deem every day a holiday, bake bread by hand,
fingerpaint you pictures to hang on your refrigerator door.
I’d love you like a child still loves life, how nothing can rain
on that constant sunshine parade. I’d give it all to you

in a heartbeat. No strings attached. No terms or conditions.
Just the privilege of always hearing yours, on and on,
that sweet music of needing nothing else.

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