dinner plates and stool silences

Across the paperback silences

And scraping knives on porcelain plates,

I remember that my hand could fit in yours.

My current excuse to anything we might disagree on, the things I still do wrong:

"I'm yours."

I share your height, and I inherited the literary brain I want to disappear in.

Your shitty jokes and slip 'n slide socks are part of my DNA

But while we debate what to watch

Rugby League, Neftlix's F1 show, or the classic -

Australian Dashcams,

I wonder about the times I got you to hold the torch for me, uncomfortably,

And voice the Ken doll at the parties, every time.

Then your reaction to the proposals, and marriages,

The horse crash-landing from fairyland,

And the 3 wedding guests deciding a ballroom dance would suffice, just this once

Of many, many times.

It's fondness that comes to mind, remarkably.

The time you let go and I gently crashed my bike reminds me of the times I've given up before trying.

Spending hours on an outfit for stage fright to arrive, just this once

Of many, many more times.

But the steadiness of heartbreak and the strength of the one I'm connected to, the one whose hands and height I can challenge now,

And not just in a thumb wrestle

Are reminders of my DNA, what brightens me to breathe in the mornings,

And think about how weird it is that all the fish died almost immediately, and where all my bookmarks have disappeared to.

Love ya.

~