Tag: epistle

Every day I honor you

in private with my pen

and you reply swiftly in pencil

so later you can easily erase

everything meaningful you said.

You stare and ask, “What is love?”

and I’m not quite sure how to reply.

I want to tell you it’s the chill

skipping down your spine

when the wind catches you hair

just so, or the way you let me

lay my tomato down on your plate,

unwanted décor from discarded

food. It’s more than that though.

It’s the way your teeth don’t quite

line up, the taste of morning coffee

on your breath, the calluses

on the palms of your hands, the way

my eyes look for you in places

even when I know you are not there,

the joke I choose to keep to myself

until I can whisper it in your ear,

the chest I rest my head on,  the ribs

I poke in an attempt to tickle

that always results in a claim of pain

I know you won’t hold against me.

Love is the way you try the food

I offer even when you don’t

want to comply, your smile

even when I get on your nerves,

the laugh that starts at your stomach

and works its way up your chest

to your throat and your lips,

all the way to your smile that meets

your eyes that are always there

to interlock with mine. It is having

someone to care about whether

they are here or far away,

a person to feel for, a person

to worry about, a person to kiss

all the pain away. Love is a hug

from arms that feel safe, a smile

from a best friend, a hand to hold

from a crush, a kiss from a lover,

and a person to hold in your heart

forever. I want to tell you all of that,

but I go in for a kiss and pull back,

slowly, to give you the best answer

I could possibly give: “Love is you.”