I love you
when I help mum around the house even (and especially) when she didn’t ask.
I love you
when I buy a soft teddy for Chirjeev, to celebrate nothing (but actually everything) in particular.
I love you
when I smile at a stranger walking along the street on the off chance (with the hope that) it’ll spark one in them.
I love you
when I love the people in my life
right now
a little bit more,
with the love that I used to give to you,
now fallen
at my feet,
waiting
for me to trip
and sink
into the floor
like quicksand.
Because love spent loving on a camera roll, on an old Christmas card, on earrings that belonged to you,
is lonely loving,
nurturing an ache in your bones from arms outstretched
embracing nothing you can lean on.
So instead, I crouch down and pocket the love around my ankles,
piece by piece,
to hand to someone else,
like a pebble on the beach I thought looked pretty, but prettier, maybe, in my friend’s palm.
Because
Iloveyou,Iloveyou,Iloveyou–
but do you see?
how it’s better
to buffer
the bruising blow
of each empty-armed-
love –
sparkling with shining purples and blues,
and stars
flashing inside my eyes –
with people in between,
like an airbag
in a car crash
that keeps happening –
so the echo
of each swing
connecting with my gut,
doesn’t deafen me.
I love you when I love my mum, I love you when I love my boyfriend, I love you when I love a perfect stranger,
and,
Iloveyou,
Iloveyou,
Iloveyou.