What’s Worth Loving?

There isn’t much.

You.

Your presence

When it’s winter

Or summer

Or any other season

Your voice

When you are angry

Or happy

Or rude to me

Your clothes

Who only I have privilege

To touch

Or smell

Or take them off

Your face

Which is sculpted in love

By angels

Or demons

Or together by both

Your kiss

The pathway to bliss

Or madness

Or total abandon

Your final letter

The last attempt at saving me

Or loving me

Or letting me go…