How Do I Love – Imperfectly

In the sacred moments when affection is most deeply expressed,
I celebrate all that is, or was, or might one day be.
But, my love is birthed from the meeting of two impure souls.

One has honest eyes, bright and clear
but her mind carries images of brokenness.
My mind is clouded with ambition,
intoxicated with desires to know what is most sacred to her.

Yes, I love her, but lust weighs heavily
and must be dealt with in ways that pass for affection.
In her smile I see kindness, but also lips that bring pleasure.
In her eyes I see a hopes, but clouded by her wish for caution.
Tasting the bitter of body powder, I rest my face against her warmth,
surrendering to breasts that will one day nourish her offspring.

I feel her eyes on mine as our finale arrives.
She reads my face with sadness as she receives
something less than true love.

Our bodies cease their striving and fold like fallen trees
uprooted by a shared storm. In the silence,
I feel the urge to speak.
I mouth the words, "I'm sorry,"
but the light is dim, and I catch myself.
"I love you," I say to the faceless shadow in front of me.