LOVE
written by: Jay
We sat under the winter sky.
The sun, not harsh,
still covered you
in a fine sheet of perspiration.
Maybe it wasn’t the sun.
You explained your four kinds of money plants,
each with a differently shaped leaf.
When I asked what was so interesting about that,
you made a face.
I love that face.
Then you spoke of the estrangement
that comes with freedom—
your words unbothered,
your voice affectless.
Before I knew it,
I rattled off
my small observations,
my quiet concerns about you—
my attempt at care, so apparent.
They said, with all your freedom,
you are tethered to me.
I had to show you that.
If you were surprised,
you hid it well.
You only smiled at my rushed admissions.
And I didn’t care
how much of my heart I had given away,
didn’t care if you’d treat it with care.
Maybe that is love:
a gentle strength to give
without fretting over return.
The kindest,
yet most brutal act.
A human act.
