I Didn’t
Molly Barrett
I didn’t fall in love with you At the overpriced sushi restaurant Where you pulled out my chair a little too eagerly My coat dragging on the floor My visit to the bathroom punctuated by a six-year-old girl Who told me, washing our hands in the grimy sink, That “Pretty girls go on dates. Are you on a date?” I didn’t fall in love with you then, but I think That I fell in love with you Washing dishes at 7:30 p.m. in my small kitchen sink Dunking my hands in the sudsy water and glancing over At your five o’clock shadow, your hands drying the dishes That I passed over to you. When we were done with the pile, you pulled the plug in the drain And wrapped your chapped hands around my waist, Lifting my t-shirt to touch my skin underneath I think I fell in love with the way you touched the back of my head When you kissed me With the dirt under your left fingernail As I watched it slide across my palm as we watched a movie I didn’t fall in love with the flowers you got me, Although, I’ll admit, they were beautiful And it didn’t take the dates and the trips and the things you bought For me to see you differently It took me a while to understand That love is not inside the velvet box That you purchased with two paychecks It’s inside the soapy water that’s Running over both of our hands As we clasp them together, once Before we finish cleaning.
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