I Have This Way of Being

I love to love,

but only when I accept

it will end in heartbreak.

I love to read

and feel the flimsy pages

between my thumbs,

but I can’t seem to finish a book

no matter how hard I try.

I love the feeling of a warm tea,

but only in the summertime

under the scorching sun.

I love driving with the windows down,

but only when it’s freezing outside

and my legs feel numb.

I love the sound

of my fingers plucking

strings of a wooden guitar,

but only when I am surrounded by loving faces.

It’s lonely without the faces.

I love waking up

with the sun beaming

on my face,

but only when there’s

an empty space

beside me.

And I love to feel at home,

but only when I'm anywhere

but here.

I just,

have this way of being.