What the Poets Speak Of

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I fell in love last year. I fell in love with the way I would laugh until my ribs ached and trust people with my thoughts. I fell in love with the girl with hazel eyes that would play with my hair, and with the girl who kept me up late at night talking about all the things she did that day, and with the blonde girl who always asked me how I was. I fell into these three girls, and they fell into me.  

She didn’t always know how best to express her love so she showed it all at once, she could sprinkle herself all around you like confetti

They filled me up, those girls, all in their own ways. The brunette with the hazel eyes, spoke with her hands, she would hold and stroke and comfort just to show me that she was there. She was like a blanket to wrap yourself up in against the cold. She was coming home to a warm fire after a cold day. The girl who laughed when she spoke always wanted me around, she’d make me laugh in ways that didn’t make sense to anyone else and write me notes that I would keep forever. She could make the mundane feel like magic. The blonde girl, her confidence was contagious. She didn’t always know how best to express her love so she showed it all at once, she could sprinkle herself all around you like confetti. She was like a magnet, pushing you towards her endlessly, and bringing everyone else together too.  

It was an act of faith to feel comfortable with them, but they made it oh so easy. So, I bought them flowers and offered them places to sleep because I wanted them to know that I loved them back, I wanted them to feel as beautiful as they made me feel. Because you see, this love is a requited love, it is not some ephemeral thing. It may not be romantic, but it is, without a doubt, what the poets tried to speak of. It is, I do believe, what the sonnets tried to say. 

This bond is patient and trusting. It is my hand in theirs, and long hugs goodbye and ‘get home safe.’ It is the condition of life, a requirement of survival. It is something that words like best and friend fall so short of describing. It is pure and necessary. It is our hearts that beat in one another’s chests. 

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