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.”
