most of my life
i believed
love was like wine
sweet to the tongue,
but
each gulp
making you,
the alcoholic fool,
more thirsty
until
it was the one that consumed you,
and you'd find yourself
trying to find yourself
amid the sweet red poison
that sapped you away
but
inevitably
you drowned.
but
how can that be love?
love is not something that drowns or smothers,
it is like that ginger tea mixed with honey and lemon
your mother makes you when you are ill.
you could probably live without it,
but its touch makes rosy blush
creep back into your pale cheeks
and leaves you better than you were before.
love is not like a wildfire
that chars and burns everything it encounters,
but rather a vanilla-scented candle whose flame
can gently touch other candles
and make them shine bright also.
love is not a "hot and cold" or a "maybe."
it does not fade when your lover's hair turns
into the color of an elephant or their
face becomes etched with valleys and
creases from the hands of time.
Love is certain. Love is ever-present like
the luminous moon and the eons-old sun.
and if you believe you cannot find it,
you will find
it is already within yourself.
