Little Love Explosions
You are not the first I have locked eyes with;
not the first of those I’ve imagined marrying,
nor the first whose level of reciprocation has been disparaging.
It happens everywhere I go: a small infatuation blooms
into a colossal orchestra of boundless love and doom—why?
I wouldn’t know. It makes me wish I could put my feelings
to sleep like I do my phone…but ten minutes would pass
and I would be back, scrolling scrolling scrolling,
searching for some suspicious sign outside of myself
that any of this could be for real.
Nonetheless, I’m grateful that I get to feel.
Some live whole lives with their emotions sealed.
Part of me revels in these little love explosions;
I store them away like magic potions
in my blue journal of gratitude (knowing how handy
heartbreak can be for later poetic latitude).
Suppose I’m doing okay if I get to say
that the only hurt I felt today
was not having someone love me back.
Hardly a heart attack, a broken back or a face slap.
Could have been a skull crack, a car crash or disrupted nap.
So for these little love explosions I am grateful.
In a world so hateful, what a blessing that I get to feel.
What a blessing that each day I heal. What a blessing
that my human experience
is nothing short
of entirely real.