Love Dumb

I don't know how to tell you I love you in a way you're going to hear. I can bake you brownies in the shape of a heart, but you're not a fan of sweets. I could write down the qualities your possess that I admire in earnest, but perhaps the paper is too impersonal. I can share with you a song that has pieces of my affection for you in the chorus, but it might not be your jam. Easily dejected, I know it shouldn't sit on my hands and wait for you to tell me how to love you. Your love is so giving and so dutiful that my gestures feel hollow at the core. Sitting with you in a comfortable silence might sooth your weary and over worked body, but I vibrate with fear that I am missing a gesture of grandeur that would encapsulate the depth of my devotion to you. But maybe that's not loving enough. Maybe love is calm. Maybe love is in the threads that form the fabric of a life and not the buttons that keep a garment together. At any rate, I'll bake the brownies, find the song, write you a note, and sit in comfortable silence. Because you are worth making an effort for, and maybe love is a being of its own and not an actionable entity.