What Love Used To Look Like

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for a brief moment, i knew it to be love

when he looked at me,

held my hand, 

kissed me, 

i knew it was love. 

i fell in love again, 

it was too fast, i didn't know it to be this quiet, 

but he embraced me, 

smiled at me, 

i whispered to his ear in the dark cinema, 

flashes of giddy butterflies in my stomach

started to flutter, 

and i knew i loved him, 

at that moment,

at the liminality, 

i knew i loved him, 

at the uncertainty, 

i knew i loved him, 

at the rollercoaster, 

at the ferris wheel, 

i knew i loved him. 

even with all the unfairness, 

the contained jealousy, 

the borrowed attention, 

i knew in my heart i loved him. 

it was a shame, 

because it was never meant to be. 

he'd be staying with her, 

he'd be dreaming of other girls, 

he'd be kissing another woman at the altar years from now, 

he'd be calling somebody else's name in bed, 

whereas i only had him for two weekends, 

but it was the nicest weekend, 

he was the nicest guy i knew, 

who looked at me with coffee-colored eyes, 

at the cafe, 

in the beginning, 

i knew i loved him.