If I can manage

to forgo the challenge

of changing you

into me;

if I can let go of your guile,

your fear,

your instant chaos,

made up in the microwave

at every boring meal;

if I can open my fist

and give you every change

you refused to make

in my presence;

if I can simmer your descent into

your own belief in hell

on the palms of my empty hands,

give you the sound of your own silence,

and do absolutely nothing

but give you what is yours,

then I have loved you,

finally loved you well.


The minute you put a should in front of love, it ceases to be love.  But if I put my heart to the test, what is its capacity?



© Andrea Mathews, 2014


2 thoughts on “Gravity

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