Under My Sofa

Meaning

Your frizzy hair drains bottles of conditioner faster than your father drained bottles of liqueur.
That means more late night quests through urban jungles for the special brand of shampoo you procure.

That means endless, sleep-deprived conversations in the blurred moment when neither of us put up walls.
That means a deep kind of understanding that can't be faked or gained with hurried phone calls.

That means I can derive meaning from the obscure questions in your murky brown eyes.
That means I can reassure you, in the moments where insecurity forces you to lie.

That means it's now impossible, to build back up the walls we overcame.
That means when we argue, it's not misunderstanding but personality that is to blame.

That means it's easier to compromise, because you're just being the person I know.
That means we never sleep separately because of a disagreement forcing one of us to go.

That means I wake up in the mornings, with our fingers intertwined.
That means you'll take those early moments, to correctly punctuate my lines.

That means I know for sure that our work is never really a competition.
That means I know it's not for real, when we turn our shampoo quests into rival missions.

That means I'm not annoyed when you find it first and it's my turn to pay.
To be honest, I'd lose for you any day.

PS. That means I love you, in case you hadn't guessed.
You're asleep, I'll link our fingers, and you'll help me get some rest.

I could go on for endless lines, about all the things that make us fit together,
But if your hair alone did all this for us, I don't think there's much we couldn't weather.

***

And so we delve even further into the depths of privacy. I'm not sure exactly what I expected; I started a poetry book, that's not usually conducive to hiding your innermost thoughts.

However, I did feel the need to ask permission to post this, which I think says something.

Erm, I guess this sort of counts as love poetry, which I did NOT think was my thing, but I've written like a good fifty for my girlfriend's birthdays over the years, so maybe my self-perception is kinda off. If anyone wants to share a poem they've written about someone they care about, shoot.

Alex xxx