love is pain and pain and light.

it takes and takes and takes, takes seeing so little to see everything again.

jumbled together, twilight blue hard to discern from pitch black.

this, this is love, not for one or the other, not for her or them and yet every single one. but most importantly, of this.

of life, of this moment, of me.

———————————————————

all my life, i’ve been told, “this is love” like it’s something identifiable, an example in a science project.

never thought to question, never thought to ask why because it didn’t matter if the question was loaded, what mattered was if i answered correctly. you don’t survive by standing up, you make it by playing the system. problem is, it takes so many years of disguised service that it becomes muddy, difficult to see where fingertips end and reflection starts.

i did not know what love was until i got the chance to do it freely, without conditions, without an ultimatum, without guilt attached like anthrax. i didn’t know what it was like to be loved until i was taught it’s okay to not love. i didn’t know what my own love looked like until somebody asked, til someone wanted it.

truthfully, i still do not know what love is. i know my mom is scared of me. i know she isn’t good for me. i know love can hurt, but it shouldn’t, shouldn’t want to hurt.

because love is pain and pain
but most blindingly,  it’s light.