To Define a Thing
He broke her spirit when he declared
He didn’t even know what love is.
She had only asked a simple question
As she planned her own future.
Whilst he resisted closing his options,
He never noticed how open hers were.
She awaited his answer as her suitors
Sat on the sidelines biding their time.
He pretended he didn’t understand
The comfort of constant companionship
Or the fear of inestimable loss.
He needed time to think about
This question of love, to contemplate
The reality of solitude or the
Possibility of greater satisfaction.
And his hesitation was her answer.
She knew that whatever love is,
She would never feel it for him.
She could see a future free from
Waffling and wavering solidarity.
She imagined a life where love
Never demands a sacrifice.
For her, love was ultimately freedom
Of choice to soldier forth in unity.
And she knew love as a litany of lies:
Each person has only one intended.
Love is blind to the beauty of others.
Love is a freshly paved road.
Love is a bind, a prison, a restraint.
Love is devotion, obedience, compliance.
He saw love as a list of restrictions,
But she saw love as a prison break.
She no longer thought so much
About love. She only lived
With enthusiasm for those moments
That brought her unalloyed joy.
She decided to be selfish and
Forget about the cares of others.
And her dogged egoism brought her
Continually to your arms.
And if she had not, my dear friend,
You could not stand on your own.