Easy (like Sunday morning)

My feelings have grown deeper, yet much simpler. Why is it so hard to express them?
When there were layers upon layers of complicated and contradicting emotions, I found it easy to weave them in and out with ribbons of words decorating a basket holding all the things I was carrying.

Now I trip over my own tongue and catch myself on soft palms with decorated fingers.
And there you are.
Always reaching out to lift me up again, with your calloused kind hands.
The world spins the same, and the lost little girl is missing.
My feelings are simple, and you make it easy.

I love you.
That's all.