Four Letter Words At Four AM

For some Love is conveyed in words. In sentences woven with intricate words borrowed from dictionaries, from books, from songs, inspired by the thought and sound of another's Love. They are words. And words can't always do the trick.

 

 

For me Love has never been just a word. It's a simple four letter word in the English language that can mean so much to others but means so little to me.

 

 

Because there are other four letter words, ones I cannot ignore, ones that outlive Love in my head, in my heart, words with sharpened edges and barbed wire that leave scars that I never thought would heal, that raise memories and emotions leaving invisible lacerations.

 

 

Lies.

 

 

Lies is what spewed from my step-father's lips every time he spoke to my mother. Lies is what I uttered, in the weak attempt to extinguish the irritation in my girlfriend's voice. Lies are what broke down my walls and left me vulnerable to the truth that lay behind them.

 

 

Fear.

 

 

Fear is the hard knot in my belly when I hear the words 'Your mother is in the hospital...' Fear is the metal taste in my mouth while I stand and listen to the surgeon go over the procedure. Fear is waking up at 4 in the morning, covered in a thick, cold sweat and wondering if my mother is still breathing.

 

 

Hate.

 

 

Hate I have harbored since I was a girl, Hate is God for taking my grandmother from me, Hate is my stepfather for leaving us, not one, not two, but three times, Hate is my mother for taking him back not one, not two, but three times, Hate is me for not being pretty enough or skinny enough or fair skinned enough, for the scars that dot my arm and my legs making me ugly in the eyes of many who can't see who I am for them, can't see the me for the marks on my skin, Hate is the ball of rage I have harbored and nurtured and grown since I was 11, like a tree that will not f*****g sprout but that I am too stubborn to give up on, like that is what gives me life, Hate is what I survive on, like to give that up is to let myself die.

 

 

But Love....

 

 

For me Love is not purely sexual, it's not purely attraction. You cannot make Love, you can have Love, you can give Love. Love is coming home and my brother hugging me hard, like I'm a helium filled balloon and if he lets go, I'll float away. Love is my mother sitting and watching my tears, unmoving until I stop talking, until I stop yelling about how much I hate myself, hate her, hate him and then holding me and not ever needing to say the words 'I love you, baby, it's okay', because I can feel it in her arms, I can see it in her face, Love is realizing how beautiful a bottled red head can be, Love is an unprompted message, Love is a 3 am visit when I feel like my world is ending, Love is my mother, Love is my best friend, Love is.