Love Is

A poem about going out alone

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Love is curling your
hair, painting your eyes copper,
dressing cute as can
be with “no love lost”
written on your heart, and then
going to that place
you like, alone. It’s
finding a good seat where you
can take it all in,
ordering a glass
of red wine, smiling as you
stay present to the
goings on around
you. It’s learning names, telling
and listening to
stories, feeling the
reggae music cause a sweet,
collective sway. It’s
dancing your pretty
heart out even though you came
alone, and you will
leave alone — for no
other reason than, you love
to dance. Love is that
moment on the dance
floor when you smile at yourself
just for being you.

(I know love is more than this.
But it’s also this.
The study on self-love continues.)