This Is How I Know I Love You

Joe St.Pierre
Joe St.Pierre

He asks how I know to believe.
The tulips in the front yard are wilting,
despite my efforts to water them.
Sometimes,
I forget.
Sometimes,
my hands are too rough
and I don’t know how to smooth out the parts I should.
I don’t always remember the right ways to care for someone.

My love, I’ve never known how to believe in anything I couldn’t see.

So I put his hand atop mine,
study the way we naturally fit our fingers in all the empty spaces.
Like we’ve been waiting our entire lives
to touch so simply.

He asks how I know I want him.
My body responds before I even have the chance
Back arches and bends,
creating bridges to connect us.
I guess I cannot stand the idea
of never being able to find a way back to each other.

He asks how I know I love him.
I point to the dirty dishes in the sink, 
pull his lips directly into mine,
humming my answer. 

My love, it’s because we’ve got all this mess in every corner,
and I still don’t want to leave.
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Ari Eastman

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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