Romance

I haven't worn a tie for you in four years,
and $49.99 buys a week's groceries, not a dozen roses.
The stub from our third date downtown
went through the wash.
And the only sounds from our bedroom
are my eyelashes scraping the pillow
as I fall asleep beside you.

Though the hanger has ruined your red dress,
though I watch TV as you say goodnight,
I'll kiss you from post-its that read:
I wish every night was taco night.