When did you first learn that love was the wind
That seasons and fashions and politics would change
And so would he
That you could only trust his arms for a moment
That kisses could melt away faster than carnival day cotton candy
Sister, tell me
Who taught you that love was water,
Always looking to spill out of your clasped hands
Or evaporte into thin air
Who told told you to distrust the sound of affection?
To believe that everyone leaves in the end?
Where does this memory lie?
Who fed it until it grew so ghoulish and real?
When will you let love in?
When will you start to see that his embrace is eternal?
When will you let his words rest in the small of your back
In the pit of your stomach?
When you hear “I love you” and believe it – no questions asked?