The funny thing about Love is that I knew exactly what Love looked like, what Love sounded like and what Love acted like in the seventh grade.
Even though I hadn’t met Love yet, if he just happened to waltz into my first period class one morning, I would’ve recognized him at first glance and never had a second thought.
Love had long, straight hair; the same color as mine.
Love was not particularly tall, he was my height.
Love had blue eyes, a straight smile.
Love had long fingers and wore strong hands.
Love ate the same sour gummy worms that I did,
Sharing a bag every time we were together.
Love sang along to all my favorite songs.
Love wasn’t afraid to play a trick on me,
Or tell a joke to make me laugh.
Love knew how to tell me I was his kind of beautiful.
The silly thing about Love, is that I had found it,
Or at least, that’s what I had thought.
But when Love actually arrived, he wore khaki pants.
Love had blonde, wavy hair.
His eyes were grey and tough.
Love had a crooked smile that might as well have been the sun.
Love had hands that were soft,
and calloused from his tough spirit
Love had no desire for that much sugar and didn’t know the lyrics to my favorite songs.
Love didn’t know how to say “beautiful” without shifting his eyes to the ground.
Every time Love tried to kiss me, our teeth got in the way.
Love became the reason I drove across town or lied to my parents,
“I’m going to....a friend’s house.”
Love didn’t know how to dance, but neither did I.
Love always answered my phone call.
And then Love grew, spread out, like rain across a windshield.
I lost parts of me I knew I had to get back.
Like an almost empty gas tank, there were other places he planned on going.
And my plans didn’t matter.
Love stood apart from me for a long while,
And when Love came back I barely recognized him.
Love smiled different now,
Like he had seen another side of his life,
Or mine.
Love cut his hair.
Love wore a face I wasn’t used to,
smoother lips, a lower voice,
And facial hair?
Now there are different ways we say goodnight.
New words that were said in the morning.
Love had places that reminded him of someone else.
And my favorite songs became a change of the radio station for him.
But we eventually found a spot in life that fit us perfectly.
We found new jokes to make us laugh.
Love looks great without a shirt on, and wears his glasses around me.
Love is a terrible speller, but a great listener.
Love knows where he wants to go, it just might take him a few hours to get started.
Love is messier now, not as simple,
A different Love.
But a Love I knew I should always keep.
Love sings off-key.
Love leaves dollar bills lying around in his room.
And as it turns out, Love also cries.
And Love will tell me I am beautiful with his eyes and he will mean it.
When I am stressed, “you are beautiful.”
When I’m crying, “you are beautiful.”
When I don’t want to hear it, “you are beautiful.”
When I don’t believe it, “you are beautiful.”
Love finally knew how to say those three words.
But Love is not perfect and will forget to say it sometimes,
But that’s okay.
Love makes me beautiful with no words at all.
Love is not the Love I was expecting.
This Love is not what I planned.
Maybe Love is in New York City- always awake.
I am in my bed sleeping,
Maybe Love is not ready for me.
For my bad hair days,
For the days I can’t smile.
Maybe I am not ready for Love.
Maybe Love isn’t the dating type.
Maybe Love is only there for a week’s vacation.
Maybe Love is only there for every funeral, every firework, every birthday, every anniversary,
Maybe Love stays...forever.
But maybe Love can’t,
And maybe Love shouldn’t.
Love arrives exactly when Love is ready.
When Love arrives say, “Welcome. Please stay as long as you’d like.”
If Love leaves, ask him to leave the door open behind him.
Turn off the noise, listen to the silence, softly saying,
“Thank you for stopping by”
