I was finally healing so well

Now everything’s grey again
I’m unsure again
Feelings fluttering, sparkling, and sputtering out again,
No one to love, I don’t know who to love.

I don’t know who I will love.

One moment of clarity gone.
I knew I craved the touch of her gentle fingers and soft curves, the sound her amber voice, and brush of her silken tresses

But now I wonder if I could love someone with broader shoulders and strong hands, hard muscles, and a voice like coffee

I did twice, but they both walked the line between sweet and firm, and now I reject that part of myself

Funny.

Most usually do the opposite.
How spoiled I must be to be ashamed of my attraction to someone I’ve been told someone like me should love

But I am an individual being,
and I’ve always said:
Attraction is spontaneous.

Why shouldn’t I just float upon the joy I feel?

Why must it have a neatly labeled category?

Love defies language,
Thousands of poems written in its name,
Yet no words can be as intricate, as concise, as layered, as simple as its nature.

Love defies boxes, it spills out, it eats through the cardboard and collects in fuchsia pools across the floor,
Too fluid to be contained.