You Weren’t Perfect. You Were Present.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Love was never written in the stars,
Or sketched on paper, designed on Mars.
Love does not belong to any place;
It is not yours or mine to own,
Or to replace.

Love does not know time,
Nor the synchronicities of space.
It is not set in routine,
Controlled by the masses,
Or even dressed to impress.

Love is not perfect,
Or meticulously defined.
It cannot answer to absurd demands
And expect to feel alive.

Love won’t mold itself;
It will not be silenced.
Love wants to flourish
Into beautiful things,
And be present in your heart.

Being present is being grateful,
Appreciative, and open to joy.
Being present is loving
Without fear,
To be seen and heard,
In spite of faults and imperfections.

When love is present,
The world is a happier place.
Moments turn into memories,
And my heart is filled with grace.

You loved me in the now,
Without questioning
The whys and the hows.
You loved me entirely,
From morning sun
To midnight moon.
You loved me whole,
As if I were half of your soul.