Labor

Loving you was work.

Like cleaning your cluttered garage

Or a long day of yard work

Or even folding the laundry that’s sat in the basket for a week

The type of work that’s only satisfying when it’s done

Where you’re proud of yourself and think:

I made this better.

Because I did.

There’s no denying I made you better

Not because you wanted to be,

I wanted you to be

I needed you to be the type of partner I was proud of

A partner worth the labor

A partner worth the arguments over boundaries

Worth the repeated conversations about the dishes

Worth begging for proper communication

Where no one asks “why do you put up with that?”

I molded you into a model lover

And you liked it, you liked who I turned you into.

And then you left and handed my work to someone else

My hands forever stained charcoal black

So they could hold a diamond