You always weave your warm fingers through
mine, because they are perpetually cold,
and you are a self-proclaimed space heater.
Every time I step on your feet you dance
me around your one bedroom apartment,
swaying us to music only we can hear.
You know to open the tomatoes for me,
because your fancy electric can opener is too
intimidating and I’ll never learn how to use it.
I couldn’t tell you the exact moment that
I knew your strong arms and soft heart
were meant for me, but I do know this:
I love you infinitely, like the way
the universe is always expanding.