My heart is rearranging itself
Wiping down windows
Sweeping out debris collected in corners,
Beginning to realize that
Being with you has resulted
In accepting that Love is never going to be
What I think it is, or
Want it to be –
When I think I have pinned it down,
I’m always surprised at how it’s broken
Through my tether, knotted poorly,
And expanded,
Causing me, with courage, to expand my reality.
For me,
Trying to define Love in terms of being able to
Answer questions such as
Do you see yourself growing old with him?
Is he the one for you?
Only exacerbates
Fears of being alone and ignites worries
Of a Future that simply isn’t promised
No matter how much is
Planned,
Withheld, or
Compromised beyond the point of discomfort.
So, let us agree to Love not
For the end of our days, but
Small moments, many times.