Week 37/52: Love Languages

Hello, Subscriber First Name,

“What is your love language?”

A question asked so hastily on a first date has me cringing inwardly, pulling away when I know it is meant to steer toward closeness, toward intimacy, toward knowing.

I am familiar with the five options, but my the language of love doesn’t reside within the shape of that space.

My mind goes toward poetry as my language, or coffee in bed, or pacing my step with yours when we walk together.

I think of eye contact and silence, of deep questions, and sneaking out of parties together.

I consider your hand on my chest, warm, healing, praying for the anxiety, for the monsters to go away, and they do, for a little bit.

I think of tiny pieces of gold jewelry, of dark chocolate, of hot baths, used books, of new journals, and pens that flow easily and freely across the page.

I think of being known, of being seen, of being heard, of attention and wonder and being confused together.

Confused by the expansive and disorienting nature of love. Of the thousands of languages present on the tongues of millions, maybe billions across the planet.

But this isn’t the place for confusion quite yet so I pause for a moment and just say

“quality time and physical touch”

And we leave it at that.

For now.

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This poem/piece of prose isn’t intended to be a dig at The Five Love Languages, if you have used that work to know more about yourself, I am so happy to know that.

AND, and…What if you could be a little more expansive, more detailed. What if you weren’t a vending machine that someone could walk up to, place a dollar into, press A5 and receive love or give love in a transactional way.

More expansion, dear ones. You can do it.

Let me know if you have any thoughts or feelings about this, always happy to listen!

xoxo,

Amy