Love isn’t a feeling
Love isn’t an action
Love isn’t a person
Love is a place.

It’s the cave of wonders
It’s a hospital room filled with new life, balloons, and flowers
It’s an altar in a church in the countryside of a town unknown
while a man pleads for the soul you’re not ready to give.
It’s a tent pitched next to the lake while fish cook over a crackling fire

It’s a home with a swing-set in the backyard with a dog tied to a banana tree, while naked children dance through sprinklers.
It’s the treehouse in the neighbor's backyard
It’s a living room where friends sit and play Nintendo 64
It’s a bathtub with bubbles and a book and a beverage

Love isn’t butterflies in your stomach
It’s a butterfly garden at the city zoo on a hot Saturday morning
with butterflies flittering and fluttering and flattering around.

Love isn’t jumping in front of a train for someone
It’s the parking lot of a hospital you run through to stand by a death bed, reading from a Bible you haven’t opened in twenty years.

Love isn’t your parents or brothers or sisters or cousins or friends
It’s the patio screened in, with the rain tap dancing on its roof,
while a father of three snores peacefully in a rocking chair.

Love is Calvary’s hill
It’s a trustworthy bank
It’s a dog kennel jam-packed with the loyal, the faithful, the brave, and the true
Love is an underground railroad connecting those who belong together.

Beat me down.
After all, I’m just a fictional character in this
Alternate reality you created.

Trip me up.
Then again, the second beating is always worse than the first.
Is this pain real or just part of the imagination you crafted?

Call me out.
I listen to your words as they beat against my ear drum and penetrate my mind.
Wait, am I the real one and you the fantasy?

Drink me in.
Tenderness before passion, now that’s chivalry.
I’m caught in your throat, like a pulp.

I’m not ready for this.
It’s four in the morning.
Seducing me with your kiss,
Though I’m not brave enough

To fall in love with you.
Not enough heart to give;
My body wants it, you
Can bet on that. Our hearts

Stumble over each other.
Eyes shut, envisioning
The best in their other.
Babe, I’m hungry for more.

No, **** this.
I’m not strong enough yet,
Although you say “Please, miss.”
Uncertainty and fear

Cloud – my mind – is wandering.
Actions are hesitant,
As you come, sauntering
Through the door, I close my eyes.

As we share affection,
You don’t really hide it,
Your crown, your *******.
What cravings, desires, needs

That rise up from my toes!
I don’t want to repeat
Mistakes with him who knows
All that I have crawled from –

A wrong relationship
Where “no” means force yourself
On me and hands on hips
Warn what you're taking from me.

My body tells you “Go!”
But I’m not ready yet.
I wish I could tell you so,
But I must be a mute.

Yeah, yeah. You’re drunk, I know.
But I’m still not ready.
It’s 4 A.M., heart rates low
‘Cause I’m just not ready.

My weight lifts up
As the sun rises
And the moon and stars hide
Beneath the blanket of light

Honorable mention
Standing ovation
Hands clapping
Congratulations

Loud noise penetrates the air
Static electrifies my hair
Surfing couches on a wave
Of homelessness and "bah, humbugs!"

Clever critters creep crawling covertly
Across the room, I see my face
Peering curiously like a child's
At something new, born into a world

Of nuclear reactions and hummingbirds
Of postulants and female circumcision
Of fried turkey and wrapped gifts
I am the divining rod of this family

Sun peeks around the clouds
As the clock counts down my every breath
This staircase reeks of death
He was the walrus, hunted like prey.

I love you
is only a darkened whisper
between two souls intertwined,
until one leaves.
In the end, it’s
Just a false alarm.

I’m pregnant
is the resounding silence of a
shattered relationship where
commitment was only a curfew.
Turns out to be
Just another false alarm.

I do
is the pristine moment when the world
dissolves around two hearts alone.
Yet, doubt was on the guest list.
Now what? It was
Just another false alarm.

It’s going to be okay
is the mantra of this generation where
hedonistic lives thrive under bridges,
in the bushes, on the tram, behind the door.
So really, it’s all
Just another false alarm.

I’m ready to die*
is the cry not of children, but of the aged,
whose tokens have been spent on the lottery
life advertises at bingo games.
Despite their withered wisdom, in the end, it’s
Just another false alarm.