other men

i think i could love
other men.
i've been drawn
to other exteriors.
i've been rapt by the words
of other interiors.
but, honey, their shelf life
wouldn't be the same.
if i didn't love you
i could go out
and dance with them.
we could sit around
tables with drinks.
and i could tag along
and laugh in all
their many social excursions.

but, honey, they'd never
know me
like you.
they could comment
on my work.
they could say it's
beautiful, profound,
and touching.
and even if they could
see me as beautiful,
profound, and touching,
their touch wouldn't touch me
like you.

you have known me
in our hometown,
in sixth grade, junior high
high school, where honey,
we dissected a cat together.
we went to prom together.
we met each other's parents
when we hardly liked them
ourselves.

honey, you knew my
grandparents.
you knew me our
freshman year of college
when we were first
spreading our wings wide enough
to fly away even from each other.

we had space for four years
and came back together
experienced and broken.
we nursed each others' wounds.

you loved me depressed,
you loved me angry,
you loved me when i
was going crazy not
being able to express myself
when i expressed myself
against you, and nearly
wanted to kill what we have.

and you kept loving me.
you loved me as my
boyfriend, as my friend,
as my husband, as my father.

and now you want me
to make you a father
to a baby of ours.

my answer is only
of course.
of course no one
could love me like you.
of course no one
could love you like me.

of course no one else
could give our kids
such a history.

so, honey, if you're willing
to stay gentle, to stay sweet,
to stay healthy and good,
if you're willing to let me be me,
then we can have
all we've ever wanted.

if we can give each other
the space to be ourselves
and come together
as we need to
we can have more
than history,
we can have more
than interesting,
we can have more
than love.

we can have
a family.
we can have
a present forever
and we can have
an eternal shelf-life.