Easy

He is not a mystery to solve, a puzzle to crack, a book to read and analyze.

No, he does not care to be tall, dark, mysterious;

he is disinterested in the performance of it all, in unanswered questions,

and I never have to wonder.

He is transparency and crystal clear sound waves, reassurance, a shared page.

He wants to be understood like I do—mutually, entirely,

though he rarely needs to explain.

He knows, desires, the security of comfortable familiarity, leans into the commitment,

leans into me, and I am sure now more than ever,

it was always supposed to be this easy.