somehow, I thought love was going to be harder than this,
a raging storm or a burning fire. first love, at least, was supposed
to be a whirlwind, overwhelming and frantic and never letting me rest, breathlessness and helplessness -
that is what love was supposed to be,
but my love, you are not like the stories,
our love is not the way it was supposed to be.
you are comfort and ease, the way it feels to lay down in a bed at night, the way a hot drink feels on a cold day, the way food tastes when you've been hungry for a long time.
our love is warmth and cool all at once, whatever is most refreshing, like the touch of your arms in the hazy light of morning,
like the rush of the wind when you fly down the highway.
it catches in my throat, even now that I say it:
I love you I love you I love you,
and I understand why they said this is scary,
because one feeling begins to wrap around me entirely,
until you are my comfort and you are my home,
and it is not helplessness, but it is weightlessness,
free-floating with only you to hang onto,
our dual lives like wings that rise and fall in unison:
brushing our teeth together, driving with your hand on my knee, speaking in each-other's adopted words, slowly blurring the line between what is mine and what is yours and now there are things and experiences that are called ours
and this love is ours and I could never have thought it would feel like this but it does it does it does!