This Is Love

When I hold her, she looks just like me 

When he holds her, she looks just like him

Either way, we’re never not holding her

She and I count down the minutes until his arrival

My aching arms are relieved of their sweet load

and suddenly able to furiously work and tick off to-dos

Her laughter bubbles and erupts as he handles her 

like a cuddly piece of sports equipment

Even as I’m grateful for the space, I’m envious of their touch

The way her limbs curve around our frames in natural comfort

The way her flesh takes on the color of ours

She is a living embodiment of our oneness in every way. 

And yet she is so uniquely her own. 

I crave them in this deep-down-in-the-belly way 

that sometimes feels insatiable and tempestuous

And other times I just want an hour alone to miss them

This is love. This is love. This is love. 

 

2 thoughts on “This Is Love

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