loved.

i once said 

that love was never fifty fifty, 

but i was wrong 

to say it so absolutely.

half of love  

is arriving at the places 

where we grasp fully

(after all these years)

that i am not deserving.

the other half of love  

is the entire lifetime 

in proving

to another that they are.  

she draws flowers 

and i write about them 

we are seeds and earth

we are deep beneath the surface

we are gathering our strengths 

and arriving at the places 
where we are grasping fully
that the fracturing of our walls 
permits the roots within ourselves
to spring forth
we are springing forth
like slow motion underground explosions
we are resurrecting
we are taking it all in 
we are not there yet 
but we are the entire lifetime 
in proving 
to each other that we are, 
loved.