Mine

You asked about my past.

Every prior meaningless lover, a nickname I had given from the start.

Everest for the tall mountain I only climbed once.

Charming for the way he sweet talked his way into my heart.

Slow Rider for the way in which he took his time to learn every curve of my body.

Viking for the way he charged ahead breaking down all my walls.

“What’s my nickname?” you requested.

“You never had one,” I said, “you were always just mine.”