places are names for people to remember the memories they made one Sunday afternoon

never Mondays

like that time when i drank too much Cabernet that it stained my lips a dirty red

and you licked your thumb to wipe the quiver off my lips

 

i made a decision to like you that day

it wasn’t very hard, but it was like choosing to put all your eggs in the basket-i don’t know why people do that, use idioms for a feeling that can very well be described in one word-but i digress

i took the better part of me and put it into the daily grind of you

and made sure that everything that i do was so that I would be rewarded with the better parts of the day- just me and you walking shoulder to shoulder, grinning like we already have inside jokes about each other, and believing that nothing could be better than the concept of us.

i am going to go on a limp and say that our favourite word is “better”, because I’d used it more times after you went on a rant about your ex-girlfriend and her many seemingly altruistic qualities. She’s good, you mentioned with a tinge of annoyance, but I am better.

We are better, I cried that night. WE are better, and never compare me to a good person, because being good should have nothing to do with you liking me. I will always be just your person. No adjectives needed.

I am better for you, I can feel it like I was born with a seventh sense. Your fingers fit right into the awkward nooks between mine, and when I breath into the back of your neck your toes curled up into blissful sighs, I told myself it will always stay this way.