His & Hers

“there will be two sets of knives
one for you, & one for me,” he says
because he’s seen how haphazardly i stack the dishes in the dish rack
& leave the drying towel unevenly folded on the counter

he’s noticed my frizzy fly-away hairs
that i wear proudly in protest to hair spray & pomade
& my black eyeliner that pools in the corner of my eyes
when i’ve yawned too much on our red-eye flights

he’s observed how my toiletries slowly claim unused counter space
& how he wakes up with my fine, long, hair
woven between his toes, & the fibers of his blanket

he doesnt have to tell me why
there will be two sets of knives
i know all the reasons why.

what i dont know
is where the compartmentalizing
of his & mine ends
& where the sharing begins.

“i’d say… we’re talking” you answer.
the answer to my endless amount of loving probes
bubbling over questions
and i feel like i cornered you
but i also feel victorious
& wonder if somehow i’m gonna pay for this error later.

you should know,
in case i’ve permanently killed this with my big
inquiring
label demanding
mouth

i absolutely adore you.

i’ve never thought so highly of a person i’m interested in… ever.

because: i’ve never pursued anyone before.
i’ve never taken the time to grow to appreciate someone,
from a distance.
this is not a lip-locked, nose-touching-nose,
“i like your freckles” kind of adore

you know the kind where you’re so caught up
in being caught up
that you don’t see the details

all those glaringly bright, red, details.

this is me adoring you
from seeing you as a friend
a coworker
a son
& falling slowly each & every time
you carefully peel a layer away.
it’s painfully slow
excruciatingly hard
but it’s all in the details.

i want you to know,
i only pushed,
because i don’t want to lose you
being in limbo sometimes makes me feel like im drowning
so every so often, i need confirmation
affirmation
a buoy in the distance that signals land is near,
& a lifeline to hang onto.

just know that,
you are important to me.