I love you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me loves everything about you.
The heavy sigh loves you.
The way my lungs exhale sullied air loves you.
Even the alveoli, while exchanging carbon dioxide gases

you’ve puffed out in the air, love you.

Be alert! My love is fervent! I love you.

The ivory keys of the piano I’m playing,

slightly out of tune, worn down, love you.
The greasy lotion on my hands loves you.
My frown as you nonchalantly walk by without noticing me

loves you.
Scruffy loves you.
My nose hairs love you. Also my mother.

The loud music in my car is both loud music and an obvious

icon of my love.

My lips pressed tightly together: love.
My silence when you talk over me: love.
My tears of “happiness”: love.
You know how I cup my face in my hands when I’m

thinking? Love.
The sweat on my nose loves. My timidity

practices it.
My feet trapped in shoes from sunrise

to sunset love you.
Tiers of love, a cake.