When I was 7, I knew exactly what Love looked like.

I knew Love had blond hair, blue eyes
cute freckles and a crooked smile.

Love was the fastest boy at recess.
He would push me on the swing set so that my feet flew
and touched the cotton wool clouds.
He shared his snacks with me because
well, 7 year olds are gentlemen like that and
I knew that we were meant to be.

Until we weren’t.

Because 7 year olds grow
and change
and from one day to the next
they are no longer the same.

Love now had brown hair, and brown eyes
so dark and rich I melted into them
like chocolate between fingertips on a warm summer day.
We read books together
like the true intellectual 7 year olds we were
and bonded over
stories about cats in hats?
It wasn’t the world’s most groundbreaking love story
but it was our love story
and that was good enough for our little hearts.

But that love faded away too.

I, in turn, grew and changed
and moved away.
I juggled languages with sports
and friendships and hell
the struggles of being a teenage girl
!
that I didn’t even stop to think about
where Love had gone.
I figured I would see him in the hallway
at some point
maybe
but he was definitely around somewhere!
We were probably just taking different classes
and had slightly different interests…
But I knew I’d run into him eventually!

It took me 4 years to come across Love again.
I hardly recognised him at first—
he had the same dark eyes, but this time his
skin was the colour of the coffee my dad drinks every morning.
His jawline was sharper than any knife in my kitchen
and his cheekbones were higher up on his face.
His dark eyebrows grew wildly across his forehead
but his grin was unmistakable.

Love had grown at least a foot since the last time I’d seen him.
He was an athlete, except instead of running at recess
he now ran sprints for the athletics team.
Love’s love for books hadn’t changed either
but he’d replaced the stories of hungry caterpillars
for novels, and plays, and poetry.

It was when Love made the same joke
and I heard him laugh the same laugh
that I realised Love didn’t come in a fixed package.
Love was not something you ordered online
that came delivered with a pretty ribbon at your doorstep
a dress you could try on and send back if the fit wasn’t right.
Love doesn’t have
a religion
a nationality
a sexuality.

Love is someone
who listens when you tell them about your day
even on the worst of days
not necessarily to give you advice
or because what you have to say is particularly exciting
but just because they want to know.

Love is someone
who you can talk to at any time of the day
the person at the other end of the phone at 3AM
when you need to cry because everything is wrong
but also the person who will take you to the park at on a Sunday afternoon
when the sun is shining, and the birds are chirping
and your worries
are wrapped in a soap bubble
and gone with a gust of wind.

Love always thinks you look beautiful.
Love likes your hair both up and down
thinks you look great in that bikini
that your makeup looks good today
but that you could also do without it.
Love thinks you’re prettiest when you’re smiling
but that’s not to say you’re not pretty when you cry.

Love is not always the person you would expect.
But do not judge Love for the body it comes in.
Judge Love for their taste in socks
and Disney movies
and candy bars
and sports teams.
For their opinions on politics
and peanut butter
the importance of family
and the new Snapchat update.

These little quirks which define Love
are what will decide whether you are meant to be.
NOT the body you encounter them in.

I love you because my heart is lighter walking by you.
I love you because no matter the world I could never see you outside the light I see you now.
Not because of the times things seemed good to be true.
Or the *** or the willingness to drop everything and come to me.
I love you because of the effort.
Not because it feels like something your supposed to say.
The times we strayed in complete darkness.
I love you because you could have walked away a million times.
And I know I've pushed you there a  considerable number of times.
I love you a million times more for each millionth time I thought you were gone.
I love you because you bring out the best in me.
You show me the world in a honest way.
Sometimes I may not understand it.
Question after question, my heart telling me to stop second guessing.
This walk becoming longer and longer.
I love you for encouraging me to be better.
I love you because you handle every situation in the weirdest way possible.
In the deepest part of my heart.
I believe you already know that.
Free to walk, free to think.
All without paying attention to where we're walking.
I love walking beside you

Due to popular belief. I believe that certain things are due to happen naturally.
Like all other things it's bound to grow. This thing, love.
We are due to become obese to this organic, homegrown feeling.

The initial look that begins as taste. Naturally we are starved.

Aroused by the scent that lures us close. This thing, love.

One thing we must learn is self control. To not over indulge in the primary reason it exists.

To selfishly take because it's there. This thing, love.

Effort exudes as it becomes habit. Being placed at a table readily available for what portion comes next.

This need becomes confused with want.

To please others before our need in unselfish manner. A straight forward response to habit.

The rising availability of also being taken for granted. The insurmountable outline that defines lust.

Our intake becomes higher attempting to justify the difference. Thus we become lazy.

Reacting in ways we normally wouldn't. This thing, love.

This scent acts as incentive,  instantly attracted by which we over indulge.

Searching for this thing, love.

It's a reasonable thing. Knowing when to reach. When to pull. When to give and sacrifice.

Almost always all of these happen, learning self control, vocalizing when we've had our fill.

Else we will continue to eat until there is nothing left.
Grown obese. This thing, love

When the tide was high
I loved to hang over the edge.
Rising and falling.
The gap widening then closing.
No longer visible to shore.
I'd lean over.
The wind thumping me in the chest.
My lips peeled in joy.
Well conditioned hair.
My fingers lost in wave after wave.
The sails filled in a gust.
My fingers folded between the current.
I a stow away.
Finding my way to the helm.
My hand lost in a sea of hair.
Sailing towards the horizon

As we listen to
the rain as it falls know I
fall with it, for you.

J.c.A

And like that
I am lost in you.
The simplest of touch is all it takes.
Lost in that feel good place that beckons our name over and over.
The physical manifestation of what we both know to be true.
The feel of your skin pressed tight against mine.
Our fingers lost in the rhythm.
The Times we've made mistakes like this.
Our lips hesitant.
Reaching out to one another in a pace we can both relate.
You feel me and I know this to be true.
Both of us lost.
Slipping and sliding in reassurance.
Eluding the overwhelming thought that at any moment our eyes will shut tight and our inner fear will dissipate into eruption.
Anticipation built high.
We both brace for the thrill of fire.
A match striking the side of box.
Over and over until we are both consumed.
Blown away in satisfaction.
Neither of us can speak.
The peak of ascension.
And Like that I am lost.
Caressing you until the last ember is blown out

Sometimes I miss you.
The music from the speakers the only thing to fill the blanks of a rotating fan.
The rhythm to ease the silence.
Remembrance of how you sound,
Sometimes I miss you.
Negating myself with quick tugs & pulls.
I hang at your leisure.
Drawn to life at the rise of your head
I am lost without you