Real Love

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.

Real Love 

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?
I snore.
You steal the covers.
And we still sleep in the same bed.
Now that’s  love.

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