He doesn't like when I call 'baby'.

He doesn’t like it when I call him ‘baby’.

His eyes don’t light up the way yours once did

To recognize the donning of my affection as a medal of valour

Happy to simply be addressed outside the scope of loneliness

He doesn’t believe ‘I love you’ should be overstated

That too much endearment drains the love from the meaninglessness of words

And though I’d never wish to scrub love of its sense

Of she I am an endless colander with too few hands to contain myself.

But —

I remember ‘I love you’ as your recourse when caught in a lie

And ‘baby’ was the bandaid for what ‘I love you’ couldn’t fix

Words not being a home of love for you

As much as a passage of ammunition.

He says what he means

Even when it isn’t kind

From a mirrored place in his heart as mine.

And when I think back on nights I exchanged my self worth for your company

I envelop myself in his doubtlessness

With words or otherwise