Stick

A poem about my love.

His words are sweet

Even with him gone

His sugary aftertaste remains.

His whispered "I love you"s

And "You're beautiful"s 

Stick.

I can see his love for me,

I see it in dusty pinks,

And deep purples.

His love is a bouquet of flowers.

His love smells sweet.

His fingers interlocking with mine,

Feel like coming

Home.

He is my home.

His fingers sweep against mine,

Allowing every door to unlock.

I am an open book,

He flips through each and every page,

Reading each and every word,

But no matter the words spilled along the pages,

His whispered "I love you"s

And "You're beautiful"s

Stick.