dear love;

I wish to find you.
We all do.
You run from us
with your metaphorical legs
all around the yard
like you belong here as a child.
We will call

ready or not,

and you will count down instead
and say

Here I Come,

Because that is what love is.
That is what you are.

You turn the tides,
hefting up your trident
and screaming for more salt
until we are swallowed on the shore,
until you are clutching your horse’s body
between your thighs
to stay afloat.

Three,
Two,
One—

dear love;

you have found me.
and as such,
I have found you.

I hug you.
You are stock still.
You are warm.
I am so, so cold.

dear love;

please don’t leave.

dear love;

i am on my knees,
fists together,
weeping.

you hold a heart.
you hold mine.
you trap it behind
cages of font

of text

and you starve it.

dear love;

dear love;

dear, love;

i leave the note
on the table
next to the pool of blood
sobbing from the cage.

i am leaving, goodbye for now.

and as I turn the door,
you call,

Ready Or Not

(here i come)

and I run.