TO LIVE; TO LOVE

You were never a disaster;

A rush of indescribable neurons firing in my brain like a thunderstorm,

Or a volcanic eruption to quell the towns that harboured my islands.

You were more like a restoration;

A droplet of rain on a petal that’s been soaking the sun,

A single butterfly roaming freely inside my chest, reminding each organ of their occupation and fragility.

Disasters are defined by destruction and there was nothing in me you had broken or convulsed.

If they enter your life like a hurricane, hurling everything you’ve ever built into chaos and pronouncing it as a breath of fresh air it isn’t love.

Love is air; a zephyr, not a tornado.

Love is fire; a kiss from the sun, not a volcano.

Love is earth; a garden bed, not an earthquake.

Love is water; an ocean, not a tsunami.

Love is not a natural disaster.

Love is the reminder of life.