After A. Papatya Bucak’s “I Cannot Explain My Fear”
By Maddie Lynn
I am in love with everything I see. Dancing daffodils, daisies, dandelions that we make wishes on under the summer sun. Fireflies, mason jars, sidewalks that have been turned rainbow by gritty chalk and tiny fingers. Words, books, the way alliteration sounds as it slips out of parted lips.
I am in love with everything I see. Folded shirts, bright new shoes, packed suitcases sitting by open front doors, waiting to go on adventures. Open bags, cute mugs, travel-sized shampoo bottles from every hotel room. I am in love with the bright colors of horizons, and recyclable water tins, and big dinners with a mix-and-match family that was always too large to fit at the dinner table. Empty bottles of lotion, smooth skin, a hand to hold as we walk together, toes in the sand.
I am in love with everything I see. Soft features, marble eyes, a smile that only shows once in awhile, when ocean lines and late night chatter make him giggle. Oversized t-shirts, strong cologne, calluses on long slender fingers. Ripped jeans, dimples, freckles dusting his nose, when the sunlight hits it just right, to make a constellation. Stars, galaxies, the possibility of worlds colliding in outer space. Illumination, the way that vowels drag on, a simple metaphor. A writer’s heart learns to love these things over and over and over again.
The way clothing falls over coat hangers, and sweaters drape over cold shoulders.
How riding a bike is something you’ll never forget, and how my sister had to teach me because my father wasn’t there.
How sunlight feels on bare skin, and the way fireflies sound
tapping inside mason jars.
The way that teardrops are the perfect shape, and how mascara runs in perfect lines.
Big bellies and big hearts.
I am in love with everything I see. The color black, simplicity, the crinkling sound plastic makes. Keys on a keyboard, smooth pens, the way that nothing rhymes with purple or orange so they stand alone together. Sunglasses, melted chocolate, fresh fruit. Roses. Raindrops. Rhythm.
I am in love with the lack of religion. The lack of a string pulling us all together. The lack of control, rigidity, stiffness.
I am in love with freedom. Dancing. Movement. The way that water flows from river to river, stream to steam.
I am in love with the way we all flow together. People with a similar belief. I am in love with the way we fight together, fall together.
I am in love with democracy.
My love is every single inch of me. Every makeshift corner, under every layer of skin. I cannot explain my love, because I can not explain myself in my entirety.
I am love with being in love.