The Worst Poem I've Ever Written

I like that you feel like you can ask my mom if she'll pick you up some french fries on the way home.
I like that we can drink wine out of a box out of plastic cups and still feel rich.
I like that when I'm with you I feel like singing for the first time in God-knows-how-long.
I like that I'm not a very good singer but you still like to hear me sing.
I like that you like to play me music.

I like that even when you're playing me sad songs I can see a gleam in your eye, and you start adding extra swears to the lyrics and I know you're hoping, like I am, that we never give each other a real reason to sing those sad songs.

I like that the scars I'll have on my face after this won't feel like scars from an illness, but scars from face-planting on the asphalt falling over myself trying to grasp at you.

I like that I can tell you what I want.
I like that you somehow listen and you somehow care.
I like that you like the way I smell even when I haven't showered.
I like that you want me to be naked more but you don't mind that I don't want to be naked more.
I like that I can't seem to quite finish this poem because your lips on my hands are distracting me.

I like that you like what I like, and that you like me and I like you back.