Well, not all the time

I think about you all the time

Well, not all the time

I did not want to sound unrealistic, as if 
nothing else occupied my waking attention 
but the thought of him. It was early in our 
relationship. So I corrected myself when,
while lying naked on top with folded 
hands and my chin to his chest, I looked 
into his eyes and said, 
              I think about you all the time. 
I don’t want to be untruthful, either. 
I thought of other things, too. I thought 
of work and lunch, the many books I want 
to read. I thought of God, and purpose. 
I thought of questions I didn’t have the 
answers to. I thought of kissing, and
scripture, and poetry. And yes, I did 
think of him, to a large degree, to maybe 
a more than normal degree. I thought 
of him in the context of all this: 
books, lunch, kissing, God. 
And later, after he left, I thought also 
of the laughter that broke between us 
when I said it—          
                            Well, not all the time.
              How it did not phase him. 
              How sweetly he understood. 

- Moudi Sbeity

Taylor in Lebanon, 2023

Maybe you too have said something funny to your beloved? This and many other moments between us bring me much laughter and joy. This poem is in celebration of Taylor’s birthday (June 20). A gift from God in my life. Someone who has shown me what love can look like in its unconventional, mature, expansive form. Someone who’s chest is a safe place. And a muse for many poems. Here are a handful if you are inclined:

In Awe of His Awe
What I Didn’t Know Before
Buzz Pollination
A Million Prostrations of Thanks
Grandrabbit’s Toy Shoppe
After Reading The Song of Achilles
Behold!
Notes
How To See It

And one more bonus poem

Wet Green Field

If in this life 
a time should come 
where I could no longer 
curl into your arms, then 
consider me a blade of 
grass risen from your body 
a thousand times over, 
and a thousand times more, 
in search of you, becoming 
one wet green field.

- Moudi Sbeity