I don’t write about you “as much as I should.”
I don’t write about Saturdays in bed, giving each other
sharpie tattoos, watching outdated tv, watching you
eat breakfast, watching you. I don’t write

about the contents of your pockets,
the layers of pants, the layers of

I (try to) make dinner every night, I cut onions,
you peel garlic, we eat with our fingers, we eat
for hours, we

get back into bed to peel back the layers.