Some love was made for the lights

Love is a four letter word
that has mastered the art of bringing
every other word to its knees.
Every other syllable begs and pleads,
every other thought is wounded and bleeds,
and love carries on,
healing and hurting over and over.
This love is meant for stories
that don't end once the curtain falls.
This love demands  all eyes, all hearts,
and whatever few tears are left to give.
This love will dance on cemeteries of hurt,
finding sure footing in the dirt and dust
of whatever loneliness came before it.
Some love asks that you greet it with pride,
with hope, and half a handwritten letter.
Love will ask that you do nothing more, but
act like you've been here before.

Some kiss your cheek and goodnight
Love draws back the curtains just enough,
so that the gentlest of light falls
on sleepy faces.
This love shifts just a little so you and I
can sit in leaf-hooded lanes and talk about
absolutely nothing.
This love is the ghost of your hand in mine
when I cross the street.
This love asks for sweet slow surrenders,
for arms and hearts - open and tender.
This love grows with you and me,
unfurling and curling around silences
that are your old friends and my peaceful dead-ends.
Some love wants nothing more than
dandelion days and no-plan nights.
Love will comfort you and your weary eyes,
and ask you to
come back to bed.