Sometimes love is not soft.
Sometimes love tires of speaking sweetly,
of soft kisses and gentle words
and the quiet brushing together of souls.
Sometimes love screams,
rages, thunders, breaks.
Sometimes love drags you out of yourself,
pulls you under and makes you think
you might as well be drowning.
Do you think love cares for
the breath in your lungs?
Love will steal your breath away,
leave you gasping, helpless,
glorying in the destruction of all
that stood between you and something more.
Love is a storm that rages,
tears you apart,
destroys you and then remakes you,
glorious in its eyes as well as your own.
And when the storm is ended
love will sit by you,
hold you as you mourn the self you have lost,
laugh with you at the self you have become,
and softly stroke your hair
as you drift off to sleep.