If the love languages range
from acts of service to gift giving,
mine may be an allegory.

The warm familiar of a hand made metaphor
draped over your shoulders, my words

of affirmation live in
exchanged books
and enchanted words,
worlds of wonder
which require careful comprehension;

to love me is to consider and listen,
really listen for the line breaks,
the enjambment, hang on

to the edge of my alleterations
and appreciate all art
is made from a fleeting feeling,

careful threads of ones existance
spun into a silk scarf, a suede jacket,
a moment of silence to hold
and imagine timelessness
inside of every unspoken syllable,

seranaded by the sound of something special
and woven just for you, I do
not know love on the surface, but
I am fluent in context

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Long time readers of this site will be familiar with the title, the tagline used for over a decade. Though my work is now moving toward primarily living on substack in 2026, this space was due its own love poem.