What I Once Called Love: The Drafts

What Love Is Not

I am not my mother.

I will not wake up with you each morning to pack your lunch and have coffee brewing before you have to run out the door. I won't rush home to make sure dinner is served in the beer is cold so that you can decompress while I silently remind myself not to show my own exhaustion. I will not place my needs on the back burner so you can use me as you see fit.

I am not my father.

I won't brag about your appearance to those who ask what you're like. I will not apologize for every argument in hopes of keeping the peace between us. I won't defer every decision to you for the fear of losing everything we've built together.

I have learned what love is not, but I have hope for what love might be.

For me, love is smiling at the ghost of forehead kiss before the sun awakens from its slumber. Love is cooking dinner together while dancing to our favorite vinyl record. Love is forgiving each other before turning out the light beside our bed each night. Love is trusting each other in the good times and the bad to make the right decision.

Love should be a choice. 

You choosing me. Me choosing you. Forever.