An Apology for July 28, 2018

Anna Killea

I may not know much

but I know soaring hearts, burning hands, and heartburn.

(stomach acid doesn't fit in the equation of love,

and neither does frostbite).

I may not know much

but I know that love is

mismatched lollipops and chicken-scratch cards from notepads,

twisting strings and cups overfilled with soda fizz.

I may not know much

but I know that love smells

of disgustingly sweet melted sugar and the burn of vinegar when it exits the bottle.

and maybe more like fresh linen mixed with the salt of seashells.

I may not know much

but I know that love feels

horribly soft like a chinchilla and terrifyingly sharp like Joggins cliffs.

Love comes with an oceanside warning to not fall head over heels.

I may not know much

but I know that love isn't always visible.

There isn't a lot that needs to be said, or seen, or felt,

when your love can't ever be visible.