Her Name is Love

There is someone I want. Someone I feel I need. She is all that I ask for. She is all that I crave. Her name… is Love.

Love traveled growing up. Never staying anywhere long enough to call home, Love embraced this world before she even saw the light in doing so.

Love is a dancer. A body poet whenever the mood is right; the world becomes a stage for her show. As she does, her body spells out the words my vocabulary is not so vast to contain.

Love is love. She gives without wanting anything in return. She smiles before wondering if she should. And she loves the world her reality is so beautiful to create.

So what do I do? How do I tell such perfection that my mortal self is worthy? Can I really take care of her as she will take care of me? Can a demon really give anything to an angel?

I don’t know. I tell myself, yes, and I tell myself no. It’s so hard. Living finite as you want it all. I am the apple of knowledge who desires to be eaten and cause sin.  

Love, I love you. Can that be all? Can I believe in this until it is so? So many possibilities. So many potential issues. But I know better. For if it were someone else I would simply say,

“Be brave my friend. Jump with both feet, you shall go farther. And as you land in those unfamiliar waters, you will remember how to swim. I promise. You will be better than before. It will be better than before. Shall you fail? I haven’t the faintest clue. I don’t know the stories still unwritten. But shoot your shot, for you must before the clock has rung. Shoot your shot cause that’s truly the best we ever got”