Signs of Love (Imagination)
Love isn’t pretty.
It startles you in the night
grabs you by the throat
empties your soul
in the dark silence
a primordial light washes the floor,
raises your edges: the weave of the bedspread,
your hand, and its pop-top scar, tiny white hairs, two sun spots, creases, veins,
one broken half-polished nail, the pencil callous on your middle finger, every lie you’ve ever written.
And in all your broken ugliness, love wipes your nose, kisses your head, tucks you in, calls you beautiful.
|Signs of Love (Imagination)|
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