Not as exciting as a secret,
I entered your life
planned and purchased.
Quiet as the ordinary,
you wore me like a sock
absent and expected.
Isn't that what love is?
The comfort of calm,
and silent miracles?
I rattle the reasons,
only to awaken questions
weary and hallow.
Realizing in age,
I'll never be as exciting
as a secret,
forgotten or forgiven.