GKM

A long, long, long time ago,
initial poems were my motif,
some silly lady writings
about some silly people who didn’t deserve
words on a page,
local indie softgirl musings on lost
—and sometimes later found
love
—but that exhausted, shaking past self,
that tired-to-the-bones girl
has fallen asleep finally.

This is different,
retired from sad, a new career in business,
and changed by love,
and certain you’re worth words on the page,
because your own changed me,
the thumb-and-finger hearts,
the break time whispers,
the stashed, secret varietals,
the silent hugs,
the days where we say nothing but greetings and departing wishes and “I love you” to each other,
have changed me.

For:
what is more radical?
what is more beautiful?
than these acts of vulnerability,
than these acts of friendship,
than to put intentions into the world,
than to acknowledge

You have changed, and I have, too,
for to be loved is to be changed,
for to love is to be changed.

than showing me what platonic love can be,
so I can show others,
and they can show others,
and they can show others.

So please take these words
as one of these demonstrations
as a talisman,
as a proof of love,
as evidence that I’d give you the world if I could because that is what you deserve as my friend,
and as a perpetual, eternal apology
for when I am a customer.