At Least That's What I Heard

When you said
I needed to grow a job,
not a mustache,
and depression isn't a disease,
it's laziness,
I realized right then
you were starting to care about me.
Every blank stare
began to hold meaning
as if wonder was your sixth sense.
It made you not feel
so alone;
that my charming inadequecies
somehow seemed to breathe life
into you.
It's funny
how I seem to notice everything
and continue
to do nothing about it
but draw lines on your face-
a new one every day.
It's my way of growing you
some facial hair.
It's a fitting complement
to your gorgeous sarcasm
and I can't look into you
any differently.
You take me apart
loudly and undesirably
to consider how you make me whole.
Every alcoholic breath reminds you
that I haven't yet begun.
But still it's you I so treasure
as if we never met.
There is decency and truth
to your ways,
and if I ever find it
I'll let you make me an honest man.
Someday,
my love,
someday.