I never didn't believe in love. I never went out on that limb which said love didn't exist. I sometimes said that love didn't want me, or that I was not meant for love. But I believe in the idea of love, and the validity of romance. I believe in impossible love, I believe in things like love at first sight, and impermanent love, and falling in love with strangers. i see love as a naked thing, pliable and soft, without rules or constants. Love is a shape shifter. Love is a practical joker. Love is a rattlesnake. Love is a Japanese lantern.

I have seen love happen in seconds.

I have seen love evolve over years.

I have seen love go away without reason or explanation. One day, it was just gone.

Falling out of love was stranger than falling in love. 'if you love something, let it go,' they say. What if it doesn't want to be let go of? What if it wants to be fought for? What if it wants to be asked to stay? What if it is just leaving in order to see if you'll stop it from disappearing?

if you love something, let it sleep in. if you love something, tell it that it is pretty when it is not. if you love something, bring it dandelions. if you love something, sing it a song. even if you can't sing.

i don't talk about love much. I've slept in it's bed. i talk about lovers like they were fiction. i talk about people like they were paintings. i sacrificed love for ambition. i sacrificed people for art. i sacrificed courtship for conquest.

i sleep alone these days. Because I have a meeting in the morning and a book i haven't finished writing. Because i belly dance when no one is around. because there are things i want to read. Because spending more and more time alone seems appropriate. [i didn't want to be let go of.] i sleep alone these days. Love stood me up. Art didn't.

i sacrificed love for art. i couldn't decide which was the more noble choice.

i don't talk about love much. not because I’m bitter. Not because I’m disenchanted. i still think it is beautiful. i still believe it exists. Sometimes i think it is more tangible than i am. humanity glows around me. hope is a golden ball. Pandora allowed us the ability to feel everything. it is what it it should be. it is what it is. i never resented those moments where i realized i simply didn't love someone anymore. i didn't let those moments imply that i had never loved them at all. i understood that those people, those places, those late nights would always be sacred.

and i always understood when someone simply didn't love me anymore. and i kept walking.

out of love, i've kept quiet, i've been uncomfortable, [i stayed in goddamn Wisconsin!], i've been angry, i've been hurt and kept it secret, i've been irrational, i've been kind. i never looked back and resented being cold, or tired, or hungry, or secretly injured. i wasn't a martyr. i was just a woman. i wasn't an angel. i was just a woman. love will do what it wants to. you will do what love wants you to do.

if a man broke my heart, it meant i had loved him the best i could. i had been impacted. i had been affected. i was human. i had been brave.

if it hurt that much, at one point it must have been really, really good.

i don't talk about love much. i don't need to. i forgave it for what it did. i forgave it for what it didn't do. i write about it openly, but i do not admit to writing about it. i am slightly uncomfortable every time it is mentioned. i allow it into my poetry and into my journal entries, but i will not speak of it. i'm sure it doesn't mention me either. love and i, we coexist tolerably. if love wants me, it is going to have to break into my building, kick in the door, shake me by the shoulders, and demand eye contact. if love wants me, it is going to have to fight me. it is going to have to wrestle me to the floor and offer me three wishes. and i will fold and go glass-eyed. i will be blind and demure.

and it will leave again, and it will hurt. neither of us will be sorry.

i adore love. i adore what it has given me poetically. i like the idea of it running amok in the streets after midnight. i don't mind the fiascos it has gotten me into. i appreciate it. i am amused by it. it is pretty to look at. i don't need it.

but i don't speak about love. it still stings my tongue, and i respect that.

i let it be.