âme sœur

Ah, monsieur parfait. But if only it were that way,
I wouldn't have to try to get used to staring from an overhead ledge
Or trying to make year-old velcro stick on wet sandals.

Peas and potatoes, salt and garlic, spoon and knife, peanut butter and marmalade,
and now and again, the sun in the sky is a little too bright,
and the jeans on our bodies are a little too tight.
But no matter,

forks are only needed for three-course meals
— you'd never have that anyways
and sometimes, marmalade really does taste better.

We'll wear our jeans until we grow out of them and wait for rain to
to clear disguise     to drown out lies      douse the skies.