Talking to you is as easy as breathing,
a drink of fresh water on a hot summer day,
the undeniable comfort of Zeppelin and Blind Melon floating in our ear drums
translated through our keyboards
magnified across our screens
talking to each other through microphones
sitting in separate prisons,
in isolated dark rooms.
We travel hand in hand through Wraeclast,
the land of the damned,
defeating Hillock and The Deep Dweller across the Flooded Depths,
to the Fetid pool –
while talking about how males always look gorgeous in tuxedos,
and females end up looking comical.
I led zombie hordes away from your door, my dear,
sacrificed lives upon lives to keep you safe,
and you gave me corn in return.
“Hungry? Here, eat,” you’d say,
while I laughed and replied, “So sweet. My hero.”
That cozy afternoon we walked down small alleyways
and passed joints,
and fumbled back through 401 games
eating chocolate and giggling
at nothing in particular.
The night you walked me to Osgoode station,
wrapped in your over-sized sweater,
and I put my head in your shoulder
The nightly conversations
that keeps us both awake until 3 am,
the truths you bring out in me,
truths I find so horrid,
truths you pick apart and dissect until
it becomes beautiful –
even to me,
and the way you pause automatically
every time I start to say something,
those greenish-blue eyes that light up
when turned towards my way –
There’s no secret I can’t tell you,
no fear nor anxiety while with you.
It’s so easy to love you, my dear,
you make everything so easy.