I love you more than summer days,
the clear sky and water,
white sand on my toes,
the way my hair praises the wind
and heaven.

I love you more than movie nights,
empty art galleries
and holding hands
on cold evenings.

I love you more than our bed,
new mattresses and green sheets,
dark rooms or dim lights,
how we breathe at the same time.

I love you more than blood,
empty bottles of vodka tangled to our fingers,
hair pulling and apology roses,
sleeping on a bad couch.

I love you more than planes,
suitcases full of unworn bikinis,
the hours it takes to pack your feelings,
saying goodbye with fists.

I love you more than everything,
I love you less than me.