it’s hard to love
love
it’s hard to deconstruct the
nihilism and the
consumerism of it all -
so this is for you
the eternal believer with the kind soul

never supine in the face of
failure
diving head first into
calamity by the name of
She

and maybe you’re right;
we’re built for it
machines oiled by romance and
adoration.
perhaps there is only
one true meaning.

how many hands do I have to touch
to connect to the world?
how long till my heart
bursts?

because, it’s the small things
and so:

love is the blanket
love is the month old birthday balloon still valiantly afloat
love is the dog greeting you at the door
love is his first breath, the gasp of new lungs,
is the grasp reflex of a tiny hand around your calloused finger.

and would you believe?
love is waking up thinking it’s dawn when it’s
2am and you can fall back asleep
love is a meal when you’re starving and
water when you’re parched
love is watching your friend do well because
they deserve it.

and love is lust realised
love is her perfume
love is the kingdom of infinite wonder and
love is like coming home.

love is love is love;
find your corner of the sky and
fill it with precious things.
rest easy.