Communion II
You tell me about Love:
“Love is being calm.
“Love is soft and sweet like the skin of a newborn. Love whispers and sings, just a little off key.
“Love consumes, and you are consumed in turn. Love is both the fire and the kindling, the sacrifice entire. It is lovely, to be loved.”
You smile at me, and so I smile back. You continue:
“Love is plucking out your rib so that I can use it to clean my teeth. Peeling off your skin so that I can wrap it around my shoulders. Opening up your chest so that I may have shelter.
“Love is understanding why the Catholics eat their god, drink his grape flavored blood like some sick sort of Dionysus, and fall on their slack covered knees to beg forgiveness.
“Love is understanding why He lets them.
“Love is you and Love is me, but Love is not you and me; that would be too patient, too kind. Or perhaps not—perhaps it would be too envious, too proud; I have long since forgotten the line.
“Love is either you or me. Yes, your Love for me requires the unrequited. And isn’t that just like Love!”
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