Tell

I keep writing myself

poems

so I can remember

not to fall in love

with you.

But then you go and give

me

the keys to your house

and tell me to

hang around as long

as I want and watch

cartoons while

you work.

And then when I say

no thanks,

you insist on

helping me

load my bike into

my car

And this is where I would normally

declare my independence

and say

I can do it myself,

But you make me

want to let you

do things for me. Because

you seem to like it

And so when

you grab

the check and pay

the bill every time

we go out to eat,

I no longer insist

on splitting everything

halfsies.

I want to let you

Take care of me.

And this is something

I haven't

felt in a while.

So although

I keep writing

these poems

to remind myself

not to fall in love,

You reach over

to me in the

morning

and pull me

close to your body,

hold me tight,

and offer to make me

coffee

And bring it to me in

bed, hot and dark,

your smile

as bright

as the day outside

your windows,

blocked by metal shutters

so your room stays

dark and cool

no matter the time of day.

And all these reminders

I keep writing on the walls

are not working

at all.