Thursday, August 31, 2017

Poetry: Why do You Love Me?

I ask when upset, mad, happy, or content.
I ask with fear or excitement in nervousness.
I ask to determine my worth or just because I’m curious.
I ask at night, midday, morning, in the evening, or while cooking.
I ask as we kiss, before, and after.
I ask nearly every day.
Why do you love me?
The answer always seems to change, day to day.
Oh, darling of mine… it’s how I know you really love me.

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