r/lovepoetry

To ask you how your day was…
I’m the type of woman to ask you if you’re hungry.
I’m the woman that scrubs your back or pops your pimple, or pulls that hair you have growing out of a weird place.
I’m the woman that will know your wrong and wait to address you until were home in private.
I’ll pull up to you job with a drink because I know you’re hot.
I’ve said “no, sorry I have a boyfriend” more times than I can count when you weren’t there to see or know.
I am fiercely loyal, I pride myself on that.
There nobody coming between us from my end when I decide you’re the one for me.
I love like no other.
I will see you in all of your intricacies, both good and bad and still love you anyways.
I’ll get a chair and drag it to the cupboard instead of bothering you to get something for me that you can easily reach.
I will not automatically become a burden to you just because I have a hardship.
That doesn’t mean that I ask nothing of you but that you only see a small sliver of what I’m dealing with.
Children and pets love me.
Your nieces and nephews will all call me Tia.
I am a good woman.
I am a SINGLE woman.
Which should scare the life out of you because I promise you I will not be single for very long.
I am learning the value of who I am because at one point someone else did not value me.
Thank you for making room for someone else that does see value in me… I’m sure it won’t be long.

In a world where anything can be changed,
bent, altered, rewritten -
where faces become fragments
and certainty dissolves beneath examination,
she has only one question left.

Are you all of them?

The voice behind the silence,
the stranger behind the familiar,
the hand moving pieces
she was never supposed to notice.

Were you the bird in the branches,
the shadow at the edge of the forest,
the words arriving precisely
when she had almost stopped listening?

Were you the one who found her,
the one who lost her,
the one who watched her fall -
and somehow the same presence
waiting for her to stand again?

Because when everything can be manipulated,
identity itself becomes a hall of mirrors,
and she no longer knows
whether she has encountered a thousand souls
or one soul wearing a thousand reflections.

So answer only this -

through every name,
every silence,
every impossible coincidence,
every door that opened
when no human hand appeared to touch it -

are you all of them?

Or has she simply travelled so far
through a world of shifting mirrors
that she has finally reached the place
where only truth can answer?

And if you are all of them -
then tell her something else.

What exactly is it about her?

Is it the way she questions everything
yet still possesses the audacity to love?

The way she notices fractures
others walk past without seeing,
pulling patiently at loose threads
until the whole tapestry begins to speak?

Is it her mind -
restless, intricate, unwilling to accept
an answer merely because it was handed to her?

Or her heart -
that absurd, inconvenient thing
that has been wounded enough to become stone,
yet somehow keeps choosing softness?

Perhaps it is neither.

Perhaps it is simply that she looks.

Really looks.

Beyond names.
Beyond appearances.
Beyond whatever version of reality
she is expected to accept without question.

And perhaps that is why she asks:

If you have found her
through every alteration,
every disguise,
every impossible permutation -

what exactly is it about her
that makes you keep finding her?

I see it now -
the miles you crossed through time,
the timelines searched,
the countless doors where you looked
for one particular soul
wearing a thousand possible lives.

And then you found her.

The strangest part, my King?
She knew your face
before she ever knew your name.
Somewhere beyond remembering,
something in her had already drawn you -
as though a soul knows a soul
long before the world introduces the bodies.

You really did create her
just for you, didn't you?

Every strange intricacy of her mind,
every depth she could never explain,
every instinct that reached beyond
what ordinary language could contain -
suddenly making sense
when viewed from somewhere larger.

Because the otherworldly
could never simply be shown to her.

It had to be explained.
Comprehended.
Followed to its furthest edges
until she understood it in full.

Now I understand the thread.

I followed it backwards
through every impossible revelation,
every collision, every wound,
every moment that made absolutely no sense
until you showed me enough
to finally see the whole.

Thank you for that.

For showing me what I needed to see
so I could understand
what my heart somehow knew already.

And now she understands
that she belongs to something larger -
a family extending far beyond
the little boundaries she once understood.

But I have to ask you, my King -

do any of them know?

Do any of them truly comprehend
the full extent of what you showed her?

Or is she standing somewhere unusual even among them,
holding pieces of the whole
that very few were ever permitted to see?

Now we are bound differently -
not imprisoned,
not possessed,
but recognised.

So keep your parcel, my King.
I have one for you too.

No lock.
No elaborate instructions.

Just a heart that has travelled
far too fucking far
to pretend it does not know
where home feels like.

And when we finally
get our hands on one another -

God help the electricity.

After everything that has passed between us,
I suspect the heavens themselves
may need sunglasses.

But before the stars start showing off,
before the galaxies begin their ridiculous applause,
before either of us attempts
to explain eternity -

you owe her one thing.

A damn big cuddle.

The kind that says,
without language,
without riddles,
without another test or revelation:

I've got you.

Because getting here hurt.

More than you may ever fully understand.

So when that red string
finally runs out of distance,
hold her gently.

Hold her properly.

And after travelling through all of time
to finally find the soul
you were searching for -

this time, my King,

don't hurt her again.