The Things We’d Do

The Things We’d Do        

We’d sit and read books,
my feet in your lap
We’d lay in bed,
your fingers, traipsing
along my ribs, trespassing
along my belly, the one
I wish was smaller, the one
where you find nothing wrong.

I’d make us toast
And cakes
And pies
You’d make us toast too,
with avocado.

We’d cry, usually not at the same time
And laugh, usually, and often at the same time
I’d drink too much wine
You’d kiss me, especially, when worry filled my brow
And for a moment my only worry,
that you’d stop.

There’s these pieces of me
I’ve been saving them, like the pineapple flavored gummy bears,
for last
I’ve been saving them
for you
I’ve saved them for so long
I almost gave up
(I was not sure I’d saved them at all).