my name and yours is love

on trying to fit love into a shelter

When we first met there was a thunder— you wanted to take shelter in my heart so it doesn’t get to you. You laid your stiff body on my couch and there I was cooking us dinner. There were violet marks all over your face from when I first grazed my palm against it: I only asked for your name yet I was left with an ambiguous answer. You told me people call you differently. You told me your name was whatever there was on my stove. That afternoon, I fed you and you grew bigger.

When we first met you told me I should let time decide if we were going to be friends or not— that was the first time we argued: You’re always with me, we have to love each other! Plus, my apartment wasn’t made for two people to fit in it. I was brushing my teeth with you in the morning and dividing my mandu in two. Still, you opened your mouth let all of it inside.

When we first argued you wrapped your arms around me and that was it— Calm your heart down, I will make you blueberry pie and we will be sitting on our table, like usual. You then told me your name. I figured, I said.

When we first met I had never loved more than this. Thank you, you said, place me gently on the grass and let go. I did so. I started fitting inside my living space again. This time, we united.

When we first met there was a thunder in my heart. Yet you went inside it and lived there still.