This thing called love…


This thing called love is a fickle beast. It’s warm and gentle. It’s hurtful and rude at times. It’s sweet and innocent or jealous and spiteful. Loving someone can hurt, if it’s unrequited. Sometimes even requited love can hurt. Love teaches us about ourselves and others. It, also, shows our loved ones how we feel. Love has many different faces, words, and actions. Sometimes love looks like a mom tying her child’s shoe, or a dad teaching his son to catch. It’s a parent making their young adult child learn from their own mistakes and supporting them in their decisions afterwards. It’s a girlfriend holding her boyfriend’s hand during hard times. It’s a husband holding his wife’s hand during childbirth. It’s a friend telling you that you’ve made a big mistake. It’s your child wiping the tears away when they catch you crying…over spilled milk, of course. It’s giving your loved one space when needed, and being with them when you know they shouldn’t be alone. 

The most important thing about love is that it is. Love is. 

Love is. 

The Feel Me Poem


City lights neon clatter

Fucking type what I said

We both speak as we listen

On the other side of the partition

These conversations are always best undressed, free of arbitrary thoughts

Who’s to say what is and what’s naught 

Who’s to guess and who’s to dream

If you leave again, I’ll scream

Into the wind,

Apart the flame. Into the kite 

A run from it’s string. 

A cry into the night is all I’ll bring

What makes you think you’ll cry?

Stringing me along, can you even try? I want to die. 

I’ll resuscitate you

And I’ll kick you til I’m blue…can’t say it isn’t true

Fuck it all, undo

Like the cries in the night? Her eyes filled with fright

She’s confused, it’s the light

As she burns in the bright rays, her skin tight

Taught, wrist bound but soul not

She pulls and tugs, but her blood does not clot

But touch can repair all that is not

Touch repairs her wounds, but not what’s in her heart
By Rev. Brenna Carnevale & Richard Huggins, RN