Amidst the remenets of this dilapidated sanctuary, There stood one.

One relentless warrior
Un willing to be broken
Refusing to admit defeat.

Embarking on the  journey down this treacherous path was one


Still a little shaken
Un clear of what is to come
Yet head still held high

In sight of glory, not daring to look at the road left behind , still was the one

Not completely sure of the ending
Remembering never to make the bed too hard.
Allowing nothing to encroach on her freedom


I just never knew that this one could be me.

"I'm loving you",
she said.
not "I love you",
which is what most people say,
which is what I would have said --
"I'm loving you."
because it was an ongoing action,
not just a passive state,
because she was loving me
while I was reading, or cooking.
it wasn't something like
"how do you feel?" "I feel good."
"what do you love?" "you, dear."
-- no.
no, loving is a verb, an act,
one that takes patience and time
and perseverance.
"I'm loving you", she said,
and her tone was casual or
almost indifferent, maybe,
as if she had said "I'm cleaning
the house", as if it should follow
"what are you doing today?",
she said the words as if they were
positively ordinary, but they weren't.
people tend to ask
"do you smoke?" or "do you drink?"
or "what do you believe in?"
-- habitually, passively --
and she said
"I'm loving
(and loving and loving)
you."