When I say love, you are my poetry. I cherish you from the very first draft, written with my favorite pen. Dear to my heart, close inside my pocket, like a page I return to again and again, yet never grow tired of reading. When I say love, I rise, even when the blanket begs me to stay. Because your skin is softer still. Your little whines become the sweetest complaints, and I could hold you forever. When I say love, I watch you eat, and somehow, that alone fills me with pride, knowing you are no longer hungry for anything at all.