Memory Poem by Aimee Kiefer

Sometimes, I get lost in
the cacophony of insults
and expletives we hurl at each other,
and forget why we are even fighting,
or why I even love you,
or most importantly,
how you could even love me.

The neighbors never
seem to mind when the dishes
fly from the cabinets,
or when our screams pour
through the cracks in the front door,
but they always came calling
when the music and happiness
was loud enough to keep them awake.
I suppose it is because they
are too embarrassed,
embarrassed they way we should be,
that their neighbors fight
the way we fight.

Then I find myself among the discord,
and along the way I'll find the memory
of you waling through our college town,
with wind in your hair,
looking like you had just woken up,
and I had never seen anyone look
so beautiful with sleep in their eyes.
It is then that I remember
why I love you,
why I fought to make you love me,
and, most importantly,
I remember why
it is worth fighting.