Dedicated to Isabelle (Though I'm One Less) and the little girl in the mirror
Love is the wrapping paper
the candy cane on the table
the candle never knowing when it will be lit
the love sign that is a gift.
It's the restless winds that blows outside my window
a TV made of cubes
ice trays bare because they don't exist
dogs barking that await,
pain that is restless another night.
Love keeps you guessing
it grows with you
you never know where it leads.
Love is confusing, mysterious, and challenging.
It lies sometimes within us
sometimes beside us
sometimes inside where we haven't asked of it.
To some love means no answers
only questions already answered
to those who disposition
or suppose it is to be a certain way.
Love can be gay, queer in some ways
the colors to this don't matter.
It's clay that molds us on the rocks
with bubbles to the sea
to turn to foam and wash away
to be remembered.
The little girl who still cries in pain.