I’ll start by being honest.
You don’t smell so great.
A bit like acetone, a bit like vodka.
I won’t pretend to like it.
But when I picked you up after a long hiatus –
Your smell made me nostalgic
In a beautiful, unexpected way.
I crave the way you look when you’re doing what you’re supposed to.
Bubbling, growing, changing, rising.
I know it’s you doing all the work;
Working out, getting buff in your Pyrex jug
But I feel proud all the same
For what we have accomplished together.
And when I knead you –
That is the best part by far.
I can feel you ripple under the heel of my hand like a muscle
And you stretch like elastic
And even though it’s a bit too strenuous
And even though you go flaky on my wrists and make me itch
I feel like this is the point of touch.
The point of touch is so you can feel the moments like these.
And it is a bit silly to write you a love poem
But I do love you
For making me believe I can own something without killing it
For making me believe I can make something by myself
It’s a team effort
And we do make a delicious team.
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