Wake up — same old hands, same old eyes. I’m used to the dishes in the sink, used to the boot trays, used to the toothpaste and showerhead. If you’ve heard one sad song then you’ve heard them all. And even beauty gets old. And even happiness can lose its shine.
In the middle of the night he kisses my face. Same old blankets. Same old sheets. His skin. My skin. Every little same bit of it is new. His voice in my ear is a pitch I can’t hit. He loves me so hard he kickstarts my heart and it beats a little differently.
I check in the mirror and my brown hair keeps getting longer. But the mouth is still soft. The cheeks are still dimpled and round — no amount of wishing can change it. Yet every now and then when he says my name, I have to check to make sure my scars are still in the same old place.
This love is a beginning that keeps beginning over and over.
Once upon a time I loved you.
Then once upon a time I loved you all over again.