Does it take you the entirety of a slow summer day to fall in love?
Starting with sipping coffee in the company of the chickadees
and ending with conversation sizable enough to fill the Big Dipper.

Or does the feeling crash down on you like a tsunami?
Not quite knowing the cause and not quite caring.
You know, that inability to feel reality during an aftermath.

Maybe you like to resist the inevitable instead.
Pushing love away with bursts of gut air exploding through your teeth.
Coming from the need to control all things, including every motion of your breath.

But I don’t know.
that’s your thing.

My thing?
See, I’ve been trying to figure that out.

At times I crawl towards love like a starving alligator would towards a deer.
Think about how they drink unsuspectingly from the river. I know it sounds impulsive.
We’re all just trying to survive though.

Like when my head is on your chest and your arms are wrapped around me.
Sometimes I feel so close, yet so far away.
It makes me want to dive into your brain-but then I think you might not like that.

Then I slow down.
And the love I’m feeling reminds me of a *** of water just before its boiling point.
Bubbles full of compassion and trust and admiration coming up to join the little piece of the universe I’m blessed to be a part of.

Like when we’re talking and the words just spew from my mouth.
There’s not a negative feeling in the atmosphere and I feel on top of the world.
Because I’m thankful to have found a friend within love.

There are other times when my heart feels like it’s going to explode.
The emotions are just sitting on the edge of my soul waiting to jump.
You know when the only thing and the last thing you want to do is cry?

Like when you wake up in the middle of the night and I feel you kiss my shoulder.
That’s the feeling of wading in the ocean, and watching fireworks, and cuddling children all rolled into one. A feeling in-between desire and fear.
Then, against my better judgment, I think, “maybe everything does happen for a reason.”