we
carry each other—burdens, ghosts, flying into resentments.
we’re
doing it wrong, because it hurts, we’re doing it sideways.
loving
us seemed easy, inconsequential; lately, I’ve noticed
how
we love each other: should I notice—the love, the effort,
every
grunion? I see how I cater to you. I see how you receive
me. I
recognize you demanding of me my habits, expecting
certain
rites and rituals—seated, receiving, full of holes and
arrogant
inconsistencies—should I notice myself showing
affection?
affection should flow unnoticed. I imagine a
scientist
suggesting nothing should be automatic, unnoticed.
as
of lately, my efforts are with notation, reflecting as I
motion—I
realize being a good friend becomes
self-consciousness.
in loving you, I am made to feel fretted; in
agonizing,
I sense, you don’t sense, nor care, taking as you do.
