the night i forgave love
i forgave love on a friday in march.
i am lying in bed when she knocks on my door.
“it’s too late for this,” i tell her.
“time concerns me not,” she says.
“who are you?”
“who are you?”
“i’m strong,” i say. “i’m not foolish. i don’t need you. i don’t know why you’re here.”
love sighs. i try to turn away, but she stops me, a gentle hand on my arm.
“surely you know why i’m here.”
i remain very still. i meet her unwavering gaze, searching for anything but the truth.
“and that is not all you are.”
i blink and find love with her arms open. i watch her eyes crease, pleading, hoping.
then love is holding me, i am teary eyed; beaten and battered down but in her arms all the same. she does not ask me where i’ve been, instead says, “here, you can stay.”
i look up to find that she is gone. she was never there at all, not at my door. i am not in bed. i am somewhere else.
but you are here with me. you are asking me about tulips.
you have her eyes.
Faith Montagnino is a sophomore at the University of Scranton in Scranton, PA, pursuing an English degree with Writing and Philosophy minors in the Special Jesuit Liberal Arts and University Honors programs. She is currently applying affect theory to Euripides’ Medea in her academic research and enjoys playwriting, theater-going, and watching movies with a cup of tea in her spare time. When not in the “Electric City,” she calls Morganville, NJ, her home.
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