Tell me, Eternal Lover,
do you love me for who I am
or for who you are?
I daresay
you love me
because you can’t
help yourself, not because
I am terribly special or adorable.
I don’t think I mind if you
love for the sake
of love
(in that equation
I still get the love I crave)
but I wonder sometimes whether
you see me in your love.
I want to
wave and shout
and say, “Here I am! See —
this bit of breathing, living dust within
your eternal love scheme has a name and
a story and stretch marks and no
broken bones but a
not-as-tough-as-it-looks
heart and you
should know who
you’re loving, God, because
it makes a difference in love, I think,
if you take time for the stories.”
