And It’s Christmas Eve

I wonder
if you’re
left-handed
and then
I keep thinking
this is something
I should know
but I don’t remember
ever seeing
you write.
How can
I love someone
and not know
what hand
they favor?
That seems absurd
but nonetheless,
my breath
catches on
the words
left unsaid,
those lingering moments
of ephemeral completeness
that were both
mine and
yours and
all at once
ours.
And I know
I love you
despite
not knowing
if you write with
your left hand
or your right
and maybe
that makes me
flawed
but perhaps
it makes me
flawless
in that
I can love
all the things
I’m yet to know.

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2 thoughts on “And It’s Christmas Eve

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