afterall

i love you not because you know how to write poetry,

-which i know you could, for those books you've read-

or shower me with dozens of roses,

-which i am sure you're able, for those songs you've heard-

but because you juggle while i cook,

and amuse me with your wisecrack jokes.

so, i will marry you (someday)*;

even though you wed cigarettes, coffee and her for ages

and often misspelled 'male' for 'mail'.