Love

This year, 

love has so many more meanings than the last.

Love takes up more of the space in which emptiness lived until now.

This year, love can be definable,

or not.

I've learned that some types of love do not sound like 

"I love you"

but can only be felt.

In the kind touches of a companion,

of a new little sister,

or of your cats.

 

Love that can only be seen,

in the pictures of you and your best friend at a party, 

in the face of someone who will stay on the line until you say goodbye first,

in your co-star on stage when you realize you've got it down.

 

Love that can be defined, but only in the obscurist of ways

because who are we kidding;  we're teenagers. 

"You are so good"

"I can't wait to see where life takes you"

become immense words of love. 

 

Love only whispered, 

in paying for your friend's coffee,

in adding a special touch on a card,

in promising to run away with your best friend when she shows up crying about her mother. 

 

Love,

a light touch of mysticism, the kind that makes you stay out late talking in a Walmart parking lot, 

the kind that fills you when you make plans to run away to the city after graduation,

the kind that takes you 40 minutes to get lost in before realizing it.

 

This year was spent loving,

maybe not even myself most of the time, but loving nonetheless.

A swift movement, a soft turn,

and here we are.

A new year of undefinable, definable, mystical, whispered, and purposeful love.

I can't wait to see where life takes us next. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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