from what i’ve observed in my time, love is soft. more often than not, softness does not correlate with any antonym of strength.
more often than not, gentility requires it. (strength, that is.) what cynical fool began the notion that there cannot be both?
from what i have come to know, love is a casual sort. a love, a strong affection that requires grand gestures to prove its’ existence is weakened with insecurity.
i wish my lover to see me at my most willingly vulnerable & revere the moment.
and when i am fear’s adversary, at rest in comfort! my lover will feel the same, chest teeming with exuberation.
love does not change— rather, it changes us. & now we are schrodinger’s lovers, my dear, both the same and yet not. for we have both become better.