don’t talk to me about love because i’ll try to define it in every way that’s been displayed for me.
first, i’ll mention the love between a bond that is extended beyond a bloodline. it’s the adoption and acceptance that i never have to ask for. the sacrifices that have been made to shed some love that’s already circulating throughout.
when i’m out in public, i’ll catch a glimpse of it between two strangers sitting on a bench in the park. i’ll analyze the look in his eyes and the subtle smile from hers that cannot be contained. i’m merely an outsider, but love transcends beyond the eyes’ witness.
then, i’ll start chatting you up about a boy from my past that i knew better than he knew himself. to this day, i could still tell you the little quirks and gestures that he probably still does. i know the innocence of how it starts and how it brims with hope and certainty. i’ll forget about how this one ends and i’ll fall back in love with him, forgetting about the five years that have gone by.
don’t talk to me about love because i’ll spat about it being cruel when abused by the wrong person. i’ll misdefine the beauty of love with toxicity, and i don’t want to taint you too when the beauty of love is hidden in my debris. i’ll shut down and sabotage the stirring of my ashes that people have tried to reignite.
don’t talk to me about love because i’ll tell you how it leaves my heart pounding when we have played hide-and-go seek for so long. i could tell you the areas in my city to find the best and worst hiding spots. i had it creep up an hour’s distance from my hometown for love to finally startle and find me over a bowl of noodles on a random tuesday.
don’t talk to me about love because i don’t think i could ever sum up my monologue on this roller coaster that exceeded its two minutes and thirty three seconds. don’t talk about love to me because i’ll make you want to be the seeker.