The Weight of Love

I like the feel of being by myself, whether I’m calm or angry or sad.

I like being in a room and letting my emotion bounce off the walls in waves of heat. 

I like the feeling of wrapping my arms around myself, as if I’m holding myself together.

I like cracking the window open to listen to the rain, and letting myself cool off.

I like the cool of the sheets when I crawl into bed,
         and I like heating them up with friction by swishing my legs back and forth.

I like the simple things, like flowers, and fallen leaves.  

I like holding a pillow close, to sooth my aching heart.

I like painting and writing poetry, and tearing out pages from gaudy magazines to make crafts.

I like cleaning out my fishbowl,
         and I like the feeling I get when my fish swirls his fins in the new water afterwards. 

I like swinging at the park, and taking walks alone.

I like making toast and the crunchy sound it makes when I eat it.

I like the feel of a warm sweater, right as I pull it from the dryer.

I like sipping hot chocolate while my nose is cold and red from the chill of snow.

I like pumpkin pie, but only on Thanksgiving.

I like brushing my long hair to make it feel soft and smooth.

I like writing thank you notes, and sending letters in the mail.

I like dipping my toes in the pool, while deciding whether or not I’ll jump in.

I like hiking to the top of a mountain, and soaking up the view.

And by saying I “like” these things, instead of love,

(No matter how great they are)

The weight of the word LOVE is greater

And saved from being marred.