Toenail Poetry

I don't want to write you toenail poetry
like
when your best friend goes on an experimental baking phase
and you're the guinea pig
and the piece of pie is delicious
except that somehow
a toenail
ended up in the middle of it
but you pick it out and pretend like nothing is wrong
and smush the rest around on your plate
because you don't want to discourage her

but every time I try to write something for you
I find gross bits that are proof of terrible hygiene in all the pieces
and I can't help thinking that you're smiling at all the delicious parts
maybe I'm just using the wrong recipe or the wrong metaphor
but you deserve more than toenail poetry

you deserve a verbal van gogh
words with beauty enough to rival any starry night we might ever see
that I can only write for you when we've turned the lights out
and I've curved my body to match yours
like we're double open parentheses at the beginning of our story
when my fingers are knotted with yours like tangled kite string
and I hear the familiar lullaby of your sleeping heartbeat

I write you pages and pages and chapters and entire BOOKS in my mind when no one is listening
One night, I was first author on the box set of sonnets about your eyes
that no one will ever see
because I can't ever make it to paper quickly enough
maybe it's because when I try to get out of bed
you pull me back towards you
even when you're asleep

and I know better than to try to get away from you
you're too strong.
you're a warrior
with the gentlest touch I have ever known

you...
you're not the Romeo to my Juliet
because I actually read that shit all the way through,
unlike Taylor Swift
and I'm not a big fan of tragedies or double suicides

so
you are the Han Solo to my Princess Leia
minus the Luke incest weirdness
You are the Ron Weasley to my Hermione Granger
without Harry's angst
You are the Doctor to my Rose Tyler
but not in a parallel universe
You're the Corbin Dallas to my Leeloo
and the Commander Shepard to my Liara
without me being an alien
You're the Howard Wolowitz to my Bernadette Rostenkowski
but less creepy and high pitched

you're the honey bee to my honeysuckle kisses
you're the man who makes me feel more beautiful when I don't wear make up
the one I fell in love with the exact moment we met
under tall trees and twinkling lights

I thank whatever gods of fate that decided to be kind enough
to let you be mine
you are the single most amazing, wonderful, and handsome man I have ever known
who deserves more than toenail poetry
so I'm trying to make it sound right
trying to make it match the feeling I get whenever you smile at me
when hummingbirds flutter in my shoulder blades and give me goosebumps
when I see that the rest of my life is always going to begin with waking up next to you
I'm trying as hard as I can

to put all you mean to me
into the words
"I love you"