It all went pair shaped when you stopped rubbing my belly.
Never mind all the things I did wrong,
we’d still be a couple if only you hadn’t pulled away from me.
Touch was the glue that held us together.
You knew that, all along.

“We’re over the honeymoon period,” you said
and my jaw dropped, “Already?” I said.
“I’m just not a very cuddly person,” you said.
and my heart sank,

…right there, right at that point, I should have known we wouldn’t last.
I should have given up.
I should have pecked you on the cheek and said, “Nor am I,” and gone.

But I chose to spend another three agonising years with you,
and you chose to spend them with me.
What a pair of buffoons!
What besotted nonsense was this?

Some call it love.
I call it dogged persistence, utter denial and ruthless self deception.
I call it, learning how to love.
I call it…

…sigh…

I call it love.