not done

Ive heard all about sweeping gestures
moving in the name of
unexpected gifts to show unexpected feelings
confessions pouring down like the dramatic rain surrounding the two confessors
two lips revealing what was hidden behind them
pounding chests and sweaty palms
scratching curiosity and the electricity of touch
ive heard all about the missed train that led to chance encounter
the party with spilled punch all over her jeans that oops later spills into feelings
the cubicle that could not contain its magnetism for their neighbor
I know its beginnings are enough to burst your buttons open
but even more so romantic than this
I'll ask you to accompany me to the grocery store
to please accept me without any mascara or a shower
youre the only person Id ever make go to the DMV with me
Love is not all trips to Paris
candlelit dinners and big red bows
Love lives in my mondays and the aisles of Target
Love goes in the laundry and swirls around to make you smell good
its in those dreadful work on your car pants you wear
in those sleepy eyes before work
its loving the lack of, the too much
not just the good parts
when the credits have stopped rolling
the serenity of silence
sweaty, sick, tired, defeated
when dishes and clothes pile up
when I've had too much to drink
A flat tire of the soul
I want to help you when its ugly
or maybe its just not looking as pretty as it usually does