You’d be here

I sat and waited and waited. I got tired of not being in love. Confused, I loved the only thing there was: this moment. Not as an idea, just here in my body, the heat beneath my hand on my chest.

If you loved me, you would be here. You wouldn’t be a memory, a law of love, an imaginary friend, a consequence, a morality, an ideal of a perfect world.

You’d simply be here.