aidan, she/her

I’m starting to think love isn’t really like I thought it was.

Like I thought for a while (most of my life, I think) that the infatuated feeling — that ecstasy that I think draws a lot of people into the game to begin with — was what it was about, but

I think love is a bit more gentle than that.

Like how do I know I know I love you?

Well, we’re doing this, aren’t we?

Yes, we are.

I know I love you because I want to do this.

The game continues only as long as we want to play it, and I am having a blast with you.

you say “are you sure you love me?”

i say yes.

you say “why do you love me?”

and i sigh and roll my eyes with a smile, perhaps not as charitable as i could be

“hell if i know”

it feels like when you see a dragonfly hovering by

no one’s ever really looking for dragonflies

it’s just one of those things where you notice it, like “oh, hey, look— a dragonfly.”

“oh, hey, look— i love you. look at that.”

other times when i say i love you, it feels like a confession

like i’ve been holding it in for so long and, damnit, i’m finally going to tell you: i fucking love you.

and it feels like that first time i said it, in that shitty apartment, all nervous, asking you permission — permission — to tell you those three massive, scary, beautiful words. i asked if you’re sure it’s okay if i say it. you said yes. i said i love you! you said i love you too!!! and then we rolled around on my bed, just holding each other and giggling to ourselves like a couple of (what else?) mad lovers. dissolving into a little bubble of oxytocin and serotonin and all that good stuff.

long distance—

it feels like when you see a dragonfly hovering by

no one’s ever really looking for dragonflies

it’s just one of those things where you notice it, like “oh, hey, look— a dragonfly.”

“oh, hey, look— i love you. look at that.”

other times when i say i love you, it feels like a confession

like i’ve been holding it in for so long and, damnit, i’m finally going to tell you: i fucking love you.

and it feels like that first time i said it, in that shitty apartment, all nervous, asking you permission — permission — to tell you those three massive, scary, beautiful words. i asked if you’re sure it’s okay if i say it. you said yes. i said i love you! you said i love you too!!! and then we rolled around on my bed, just holding each other and giggling to ourselves like a couple of (what else?) mad lovers. dissolving into a little bubble of oxytocin and serotonin and all that good stuff.

(you know how school can be)

but know that our love still breathes

and my heart still beats in every word I

have written for you

/write for you

/will write for you.

and you sneak through my mind like a little thief

and I will still, on occasion, leave words on the windowsill

for your taking

and i’ve done both and i was right to hope for this

gentle love

i will hold you as the tears fall

mine or yours— what’s the difference?

i will miss you

the clouds would pour themselves out, desperate to be close to you in each soft little drop

the stars would linger at daybreak, and

it all would pause to listen closely to your song

and you’d hear it echo off the blanket of the sky

and in the echo find the accompaniment:

i am listening

i see you, bird

i watch your flight

1.) stop

2.) because no matter what you say

3.) or how you say it

4.) the word “love” is not what pulls the heart—

5.) she pulls it

6.) slowly

7.) but ceaselessly.

8.) know that in your bones

9.) and in your chest

10.) and when you feel it in your lungs, take a

11.) deep

12.) breath

I met your parents, your dog, your cat, your brothers

I saw your shadows stretching around the same walls they’ve been stretching around since you were— three, I think you said.

and I tried to think of how you’re my girlfriend and how you got there from your parents, your dog, your cat, your brothers, and those walls

and I imagined shadows on the walls of you playing Rook or the piano, or eating, sleeping, or walking from one room to another

and then I started to think about how I know you a little bit more now, and how our love is a breathing love

and we grow on each other like vines, tangled, supported only by the other’s desire to support

i miss you.

and then i remember a fact so simple i forget it like i forget my keys: you love me

there it is

and i feel my lungs where i took a pressure cooker to be and i take a deep breath, and i feel the pressure release

and the quaking turns into my pulse.

and the fire in my stomach turns into butterflies.

you left your sweater on my bed

when i made my bed the morning after you left, i laid it on my neatly-folded blanket

like a shrine to our love.

i didn’t fold your sweater as if it was being packed away or put on display— i laid it on my bed like it was something you took off when you arrived. something unfinished, to be picked up where you (we) left off

and in my mind i whisper and i look at my quiet shrine to our love and i pray—

come back to me

come back to me.