in case you think i am becoming too cynical about love

and I would argue I am not,* I offer this lovely poem by Linda Rastan, I Married You. April is Poetry Month, after all. And I like this one's sweet little twist.

I married you
for all the wrong reasons,
charmed by your
dangerous family history,
by the innocent muscles, bulging
like hidden weapons
under your shirt,
by your naive ties, the colors
of painted scraps of sunset.

I was charmed too
by your assumptions
about me: my serenity—
that mirror waiting to be cracked,
my flashy acrobatics with knives
in the kitchen.
How wrong we both were
about each other,
and how happy we have been.

*I do think love exists in many forms all over the planet. Absolutely. I just don't think it's in my cards. Unless it's a dog. Dogs seem to love me. Men do not.