Atticus

Obsession is not love,

infatuation is not love,

when someone ignores you

or treats you poorly, carelessly,

or with indifference

that’s not love—

that’s a lack of love,

for yourself, for trying to fill

your missing pieces with theirs

but when someone is whole

and you are whole

and you act in kindness and benevolence, vulnerability

through strength,

love becomes an exchange

with another person—

and that is

its truest form.

“I don’t believe in magic,”

the young boy said,

and the old man smiled,

“You will, when you see her.”

took her hand,

and my heart beat fast

as her warmth swallowed me up.

A thousand times I’d run this trail

but not with her.

Her eyes were all that young love should be,

and they lit me up

in every look.

We lay in shooting skies

and freckled stars, and

promised our love would last forever—

and so in our forever

it would

there in a castle atop of Blueberry Hill,

with silver moon rivers

and sailing ships.