Unlikely love is......

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Written for a friend after a late evening conversation.

Submitted: May 06, 2010

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Submitted: May 06, 2010

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Love’s courage is never strong enough for the tasks we need it to understand.
Because brave hearts will always suffer fear, it’s that fear that makes them brave and wise.
The world is littered dirty with pieces of them. But for each piece is a gamble learned.
 
Love ‘the unlikely’
Love is unlikely to be taught in a book of tips and tricks. After all that’s like tryin’ to find your score in an addiction to self-help books, have they ever really cured anyone?
Love earns an unlikely salary, speaks an unlikely language and may come in unlikely shades and seasons.
You are unlikely to know love if you don’t first know yourself.  Love knows you need it, but is unlikely to give in, just because you’re afraid of being alone.
It is not necessarily the circus it plays on TV, so there maybe little need to suspend your disbelief.
Love ‘the unlikely’ can feel like the impossible possibility whether you’re sixteen or sixty.
It is unlikely to not cause you pain.  
 
For all the unlikely it is, love……
Love is knowing you’ll make mistakes. It will bring focus and distract. And should never be convinced by material.
 
Love is complicated but not cluttered.
Doesn’t have an imagination so is unlikely to pretend.
Love won’t want to change you, but you’ll rearrange the planets for it.
It won’t trap you, but you won’t want to run away.
Love is obsessive but won’t try to possess you.
Isn’t overbearing, and will carry most of the weight effortlessly.
Love will not preach to you, but you’ll hang on it’s every word.
It doesn’t always have the right words, but will always listen to you.
Love will make you hold your breath, make it hard to breathe, but won’t choke or drown you.
 
Love is not your fool, so never think that you’re in control.
It doesn’t possess a calendar or clock, so don’t expect a countdown.
Love is not in the habit of letting you know where, when or who…. It hopes we’re open enough to figure it out on our own. Got GPS, so what!
Love is always where it’s supposed to be and on time. Whether across the world, or across the hall.
 
Love is stealth, quiet, and not often as loud as the bitterness of hate.
Love is inconvenient.
It’s meeting her and she’s already married, it’s the guy you’re not supposed to fall for.  
It’s not always the one you walk down the aisles with or the face you recall at the end.
Love is more likely to have a sense of humour that makes you ashamed for snorting out a laugh, than be as attractive as you assumed for the part.
Love can make you feel slightly embarrassed for being caught smiling without reason on the train by the old lady who smiles back. Don’t worry, she already knows why.
Love is falling asleep with her face in your head like a lullaby.
It’s making an anthem of that song you hated before.
 
Love can stay perfectly still while you dance around it.  
It leaves us exposed.
It’s all our hesitation and doubt. It learns and teaches us.
Love is the leap. It’s belief. But it’s not what you want to believe, it’s the truth. 
 
For all the things love is, and is unlikely to be. Perfect is not one of them.
 
 
 
 
 


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