I wrote about love

I do not write about love because I do not have the words for it.

I do not write about love because it does not occupy my headspace.

I do not write about love because no piece of paper is deserving of the story I could tell it.

I do not write about love because a man is not the sole reason I smile.

I do not write about love because I loved myself first.

I do not write about love because I continue to strive for more than to just “be in love.”

I do not write about love because no love looks the same.

I do not write about love because I did not fall in love.

I stepped into it. Like the first step into sunlight.

Arms warm. Eyes closed.

I did not fall anywhere.

I stepped and became illuminated.

I do not write about love because it’s something greater than that.

PS Patrick, I love you. I mean, you’re alright most of the time, I guess. Put the dishes in the sink. C u later.

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