your car doesn't have
a cd player
which is a little unsettling
but i don't really mind
when i'm with you
i feel safe
i'm not convinced
that soulmates exist
but i am convinced that
we pick up people on
our way through life
and some of them just fit
some people are habit
and i can't remember a
time without them
and some people are the future
what could be instead of
what's always been
you're art in the foam on a cortado
you're a peach drenched in
heavy cream and limoncello
old overshirts and amaretto
you're champagne
and i'm the idiot
who intentionally calls it
"sham-pag-nee"
you can see through the
espresso stains on my
hands and arms right
down to freckles over scars
even if i slap myself to wipe
the pleasant look off my face
at the end of the day
you'll still think i'm cute
and when you say things like that
i start to feel all gooey and underbaked
like a fallen cake with
cinnamon buttercream
melting down the sides
perfectly and unabashedly flawed
i am selfish and afraid
and you don't seem to mind
because goodness knows
you're sweeter and softer
than i ever dreamed
someone could be
