I do not love you quite like Poe or Neruda or a romantic poet loves -

a bigger-than-life love, a world-upending-passion love.

Instead I love you as I do ordinary things,

Like the holes in your faded blue jeans,

And the perpetually untied laces of your Chuck Taylors,

And the kindness in your eyes and words and hands.

I love all of these mundane you-things because I love you,

And I love you because you are like all of these things:

Comfortable. Honest. Dependable. Real.