Day Eighteen: We Love, Dear (poetry that sucks)

I am happy in the moment

that you touched me.

And this skin you made me love, dear,

Has stopped hurting.

We are something so much greater

Than the sum of our parts–

A part of an idea, dear, and though

The moments pass,

As long as I remember, this touch

Will last forever.

Though we may fall apart, though we

May have our own ideas, dear,

Though this skin may start to hurt again,

Nothing will change, dear, what has been,

And in this moment we are free.

So we, loving mortals mortally loving,

Are left to lovingly see, dear.