by Ben Klayer
Crush sounds like fingernails scraping a chalkboard.
But love? Love has a rhythm. Like hammers striking nails.
Like metal melting together.
Like sandpaper smoothing out imperfections.
She is the greatest blacksmith in the world.
Her footsteps pave concrete.
Her hands sharpen swords.
Her smile forges diamonds.
Her smile forges me, and her spirit
crafts me into something beautiful.
My eyes stay focused.
My lips stop quivering
and start speaking with the authority of Thor.
My shoulders release
the anvil that threatened to collapse me.
My palms dry
like glue and I grasp anything.
My heart freezes
like an ice cube that never melts.
The butterflies in my stomach
don't feel nervous, but energized,
reborn from insecurity and uncertainty.
My knees are solidified
like stone monuments that stand testament
to this great accomplishment,
to all that time has ever known,
to destruction's defeat,
to the love
a simple wordsmith,
the greatest blacksmith in the world.
Love is different than a crush, because
instead of crumbling underneath unfulfilled dreams,
I am built stronger than iron
with tools soldered from promises.