2 a.m. on Sunday morning and hes staring at the ceiling, counting water stains.
He goes to church, just because, and listens to the sound of words like grace and salvation and lets his eyes find the broken lines and chips in the podium.
Breakfast is toast, because thats all the diner downstairs serves, and its always eaten in five neat bites.
Light is always white, never sterile.
Stars are planets, never things to be wished upon.
And people are atoms and molecules and tissue and sliding muscle.
He works as a dentist, and asks How has life been treating you lately? and makes soft noises in the back of his throat, so theyll come back next time.
Favorite colors dont exist.
Nor first loves,
Wanting to eat
And wanting to sleep
And wanting to touch
Because of hormones and synapses and instinctual need.
And marry me is a just because
2 a.m. in the morning, and shes counting the number of ways she wishes she could make him smile, because hed be beautiful.