This one isn’t quite as old as the last two. I’m guessing again, but would place this some time between 2009 and 2012, most likely.
I traced the lies on your lips while you were sleeping.
I guess that means the honeymoon is over.
The boxes left packed in the closet
make me wonder if I’m coming or going.
When I read poetry praising the power of love
I think about how you never put the toilet seat down
and the trail of dirty laundry you leave behind you.
When we met I told you:
‘I’m not the kind of woman who does dishes’.
Now we spend a fortune on paper plates.
I shouldn’t have been so specific.
You want to talk about love?
You steal the covers.
And we still sleep in the same bed.
Now that’s love.