Isn't That What Love Is?

It is so deeply exhausting To have to build a roadmap to your own heart Just so someone will pull up to the driveway. She is tired of giving instructions on how to notice her, Tired of explaining the exact shape of her loneliness Before anyone thinks to hold her hand. She doesn’t want a love that needs a cue card. She just wants to lean her head against a quiet shoulder And let the bone-deep weariness simply melt away, To be gathered up tight on a cold kitchen floor Without having to say a single word. And she sits there, staring at the space between them, Asking the question she shouldn't have to voice: Isn’t that exactly what love is supposed to be? To notice the quiet shift in the room, To reach out and care, Without ever being asked.