Maybe Love

Maybe Love is supposed to be scary, because, as humans, sometimes that is the only time we know we are doing anything right.

Maybe Love isn't always supposed to be out of your mind, crazy intercourse. Maybe Love is giggly oral sex at unexpected times, rubbing each other's feet while you both lay on your backs in bed half asleep and tugging the other in close during naps so that your bum can fit perfectly into that awsome hollow of his hips.

Maybe Love is healthiest when your life is so full without him, that sticking him in there, somewhere, becomes simply delicious.

Maybe Love shows the most when you refuse to make the other smaller than yourself by insisting that you are right. Maybe Love is most evident when you pretend you hardly even notice that she is on her sixth month of unemployment.

Maybe Love ebbs and flows. Maybe Love does go in cycles.

Maybe Love knows that the only way that any of us has failed ourselves is by denying our perfection.

Maybe Love doesn't only give up hoping he'll pick up the bath mat once he is done showering, but starts to realize that the bath mat on the floor means he is safe and well and living in your apartment and, by some beautiful miracle, yours.

Maybe Love can't always feel good every single day of the year. Maybe that is what makes Love so valuable.

Maybe Love will never happen if one waits for the ideal circumstances in life to line up before them.

Maybe Love's success is not meant to be defined by the length of your stay, but by the intensity of your moments, the fullness in which you showed up and the peace that passes over you when you say goodbye.

Maybe Love exists simply to tease us all into trying to define it with our measly little words.

Maybe Love?

Yeah.

Maybe.