I think of me and love as two islands between a body of water.
Sometimes, it’s a river. The ripples of the water as it flows reaches my ankles. At some point, I must have slipped from the moss on the rocks, the water engulfing my ankles and knees.
Sometimes, it’s an ocean. The waves tickle my feet in the sand, coming and going. There will be times where it will crash into me, wiping me out. I would struggle for breath as I emerge.
Sometimes, it’s a puddle. Just one gallant gesture of dropping a man’s coat away. I can see it clearly, smell it, and I could touch it if I really, really wanted to.
But I always almost never cross.