I don’t know how to love another way.
This is how I love and I wish you allowed for it
to embrace you like a warm spring
engulfing all of you in comfort.
I don’t understand how to think about love in your terms.
This is me inhaling and exhaling all that I am
responding to the greatness of you…
to the parts you don’t see.
Sometime ago I was reminded, by an ex lover,
that I loved him unlike anyone else.
He didn’t show me love but took it desperately
clawing his way into my heart.
It was full of anger and ravishing turmoil
forcing us to constantly swirl like tornadoes
colliding while destroying everything outside of our souls.
I knew that he didn’t love me.
He just loved the way that I loved him.
And, it was okay, because I loved for both of us.
He said he had never been loved so fiercely
in hope of finding his soul.
And still, now, he says he searches for the missing parts
of love that I handed to him and then took back when I left.
In the process of separation
I realized that love is a perspective of sorts.
I cannot make you love me.
I am only responsible for my love and how freely I provide it
I don’t remember when I fell,
completely and hopelessly, in love with you.
I don’t recall the exact moment of bonding,
or expanding my heart wider to receive you.
I think it just appeared one day
and my soul knew it was time to let go.
I recognized the discomfort of attaching
to anyone so deeply,
that I wanted to run the other direction.
You took me, pulled me, disarmed me
and asked to give it a chance
so here I am asking of you to release the old.
Now in letting go of me without hesitations
I see you fighting,
conflicting, twirling in your own doubts
of self-worth and past loves
for what you have received so easily:
the complete essence of me
with no strings attached or demands.
You are finally seeing true love and it feels
unnerving, foreign, and at the same time,
so freaking yummy
that it commands more space,
and more life in this timeline.