pattern (n).


At first I didn’t recognize our love because
it wasn’t masked by something else, it wasn’t
muddied with requirements, it wasn’t
latched onto past hurts, it wasn’t
compensating for our disappointments, it wasn’t
demanding a particular response, it wasn’t
accompanied by a list of my faults, it wasn’t
heavy from expectation.  

It was just waiting for us like
the morning waits, with delicate curiosity,
patient as I stumble to the kitchen
to put the kettle on.