Here are the things I know

Another love poem.

There are things that love is,

and there are things that love is not.

Some lovers say love is silent.

A breath of wind.

Others say love is like fire.

A burning in your gut.

I can’t vouch for either,

but I do know what

I know,

and that is this.

 

Love is the act of giving

little thimblefuls of yourself away.

Little by little.

To your parents

to your friends.

And in eventual reality,

giving the biggest portion

to the person that is going

to seed your heart

with the brightest things

and the biggest stars.

 

Love is giving pieces of yourself

away again and again.

And saying with conviction;

‘I don’t mind. I don’t mind.’

And promising yourself the stars

because no one was big

enough or bad enough

to pull them down for you

whether it was promised or not.

And sometimes you’ll ache to have

those pieces back.

But you wouldn’t want them back anyways.

Because they’ve been left in dusty attics.

And aren’t fit for anyone anymore.

 

Love is giving up your heart again;

some pieces even handed off still wet,

with the glue of past heartbreaks.

 

And know this--

some people are not doctors.

There are some that have no idea,

what to do with a  heart,

that is in six and seven pieces,

and they will try, perhaps earnestly,

but they can no more fix you

then explain the brokenness

to themselves.

 

But trust me on this;

there are others;

that are just the right kind

of physician.

 

They will not fix you.

Because you have no reason

to be fixed.

But they will heal you--

and goddamn it if

it isn’t the best medicine

you’ve ever tasted.

 

These are the important things.

 

But most of all,

Love is stretching out a hand

in which lies every deed and every doing--

some black and some snow

and still others red with flame and green

with ill"

stretching out that hand

and placing it in

another.

Knowing that this hand bears the same.

 

And love is saying with conviction;

‘I am yours.’

Perhaps the first or last or

the one hundredth time.

And love is knowing

in the small spaces,

between your lungs,

and your heart,

that this time

you’re speaking the truth.

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[SRRLohr]

While I'm not sure I agree with all the sentiments, the poetry is excellently written. It flows wonderfully and feels sincere. Well done.

[Max64]

Great! Truly Great! Thank you for sharing. Favorite lines ... "Love is giving up your heart again;" and perhaps "some people are not doctors.
There are some that have no idea,
what to do with a heart"
You captured so many varied feelings about love, as a giving act. Probably the best actual poetry I have read through this site.

[Jennifer Johnston]

Thank you so much for your comment! Immensely flattering. I am very glad you enjoyed it. This is why I write!