love ~ (n) all the little pieces of a person.


love was the suitcase i packed

on a winter’s morning

to share your couch

and my heart,

ice cream and sheets.


love was the painting i once bought,

silly and too bright

for a three year old

with hair that grew curlier

at every second glance;

just like her old man

who played the martyr

in a war they called politics.


love was the milk that boiled over

and your mother’s hand

mopping it,

with all the culinary superiority

she possessed

shining through her cheeky smile;

love was the sigh i heaved that day

and the grin i returned.


love was the loss of my mother

in a land between

terrible fear and pure relief;

it was the tears i wept to no end,

the numb that refused to leave.


love is me,

thin bones, bad hair, invisible scars,

looking into a mirror:



whispering to myself,

“Do it.”


//Questions of the Curious Soul – Pt. 1//