i love you, still—

love the days you
melt into the couch,
like a pocketed pack of
valentine chocolate
ditched in the dazzling
sun, drizzling into
pavement grooves
with direction-
less affection.
love it when we
squish our lips
together like
fresh mud
smushing into
the hedge-maze crevices
of our well-worn sneakers
as our feet pound the
same sidewalks of the
same streets in the
same suburb
day after day
after day and yes
this repetition is
marriage AND yes,
i love it
when you reassure me
time & time again
saying sitting
for a little while
won’t make you any less
of a person, just less
of a machine, dear
as we string our fingertips
t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r like shoelaces
& i pray
our skin will fuse
while we learn to forgive
our minor sins & forget
that which once kept us
a p a r t

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Abbie Doll is a writer residing in Columbus, OH, with an MFA from Lindenwood University and is a Fiction Editor at Identity Theory. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Door Is a Jar Magazine, 3:AM Magazine, and The Pinch, among others. Connect on socials @AbbieDollWrites.