For the sake of elongation,
though I lied and claimed it was only because I felt unsatisfied with the imbalance of it all,
I kissed her an additional nine times, making it ten.
Oh, how I hate the writings of the enamoured who relentlessly detail for us
what their muses look and are like.
They leave not a spot on their skin unmentioned, not a strand of their hair unsung
for the writings of the enamoured emphasise all that they're in love with whilst
leaving out all that they are not, which, as one could be sure, is nothing in particular.

But I fear I may have caught what it is that they suffer from because, like them,
I am finding myself delightfully documenting,
in every literary form, albeit through poetry and song, what parts of you, which is all,
make up for the evil of today, which is a lot.

In my honorary pieces,
as I like to call them since honoring and revering are the verbs found in abundance all over them,
one will see that, I, infamously known for having an abysmal memory
had alas demonstrated not one sign of forgetfulness.

The old habits that die once love is in the picture are uncountable.

It is thanks to her bettering transmission of thought to paper
that the wheels in my head now spin as they were designed to and not pointlessly.
My fingers do not cramp as they convert what thoughts the wheels produce.
How else would I have managed to write what I now say aloud to all of you caring to listen?

I welcome you to the church that is my heart with all its primitive details
that serve to better facilitate praise beyond policing and love beyond measure.
Yes, that’s right.
My love for her has never seen the instrument that can gauge it.
It has yet to meet its respective scale or the apparatus that can read its endpoints,
those I am certain do not exist.

Does it sound like my love for her has a commencement date and a finale?
Perhaps, but do not expect me to have an answer to that question.
I am far too heady, too deeply enthralled and much too besotted for
such unimportant calculations?

What business have I in trying to uncover which beginnings are which and what endings are what when I could further love her
as if the very life of me depended on doing just that?

Which is why as a way of extending my stay here,
I kissed her again and again and again
until my ability to count became hers to destroy
and to correct right after —just like she did with my memory.