This is as much as I know about love:

being barefoot on the grass, unafraid of dirt,

gobbling cheap seafood tacos, unabashed by mess

talking about our potential loves in other regions in life,

learning comic relief songs for each other,

spoken prayers and promises.

Just sitting together, breathing air, a gift.

A pocket of quality time wrapped with a neat ribbon-bow,

only to be clumsily, dorkily spilled out

with bouncing contents and unraveling conversation.

A box within a box within a box, opened

and opened and opened, naturally.

(Call me your friend again, I wasn't ready).

My heart jitters not with butterflies

but rather hummingbirds, flickers of cool blue and green,

satisfied and yet flitting between thoughts unique

and I don't know where to look

because I was not ready for your


Serendipitous, spontaneous, satisfying, sweet.

You exist, like me. Your existence sets me free.

Hummingbirds and happiness, philosophy under the stars.

Extraverted hugs upon unprepared introverts,

who'd do anything for a second try

Loving you the way a girl adores a bird

humming high in the sky.

Ellen Huang (she/her) holds a BA in Writing + Theatre minor from Point Loma Nazarene University and reads for Whale Road Review. She is published in Ice Lolly Review, Mochi Magazine, Royal Rose, Yes Poetry, briars lit, the aurora journal, horse egg literary, Sword & Kettle Press, Enchanted Conversation, HerStry, and elsewhere. She also burns pyrography and writes semi-spiritual stuff based on movies she loves. Follow the magic:

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