It wasn’t a love immediately apparent,
apparition,
something like ether in her soul hole,
a soul glow.
A pull yes,
but love?
Love can’t be.
She pushes it away,
politely.
“No thank you, I cannot have anymore,
I am full,
stuffed
from too many five-course heartaches.”
However,
she reminds herself,
the loves lately,
they’re different,
like that of some sweet delicate decadence,
a perfectly sized desert.
It needs nothing.
It asks for nothing,
and she is not stretched
when she eats from its sweetness.
So on this night
the new moon tugs gently
on each toe
and she is alone,
but not lonely.
She remembers the roads
across the country,
filled with people
she would travel for days to embrace.
On this night,
she remembers
a particular smile,
particle of stardust.
A specific light
in an explicit eye.
She realizes it
suddenly
and swiftly
and not without
utter amusement…
She fell in love.
The reaction
to this realization
hasn’t preceded her.
She’s laughing,
and crying,
laughing
and crying
at once.
The laugh deeply uninhibited
the cry, thick fullness.
The more she laughs,
the more she cries
and upon realizing
that they are really the exact same thing,
she laughs and cries
even harder.
It’s absurd
and brilliant
and beautiful.
This minor occurrence,
the thought of love in a dark room,
brought a oneness unexpected.
The empty, clear void
the only constant
in any of this.
In all of this.
Sky and Earth,
death and birth,
opposites fall on each other
like lovers in union,
no longer something separate,
but the very same thing.
Now the middle her heart has imploded
into the nothingness
of everything.
Author: Renee Anderson
Editor: Emma Ruffin
Photo: Courtesy of Amy Bartley
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