in halves?!.
You said you loved me in halves,
Because you cannot love fully.
You said you don’t know how to,
So to love incompletely was all you could offer.
I fliched for a quick second,
But then I realized,
I also loved you in halves.
I’ve told you this before.
But not because I didn’t know how,
Only because I had just half a heart left to give.
And with the half I had left in me,
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I loved you completely.
So the paradox is this:
Did we ever love in halves?
Or did we love in full,
If halves were the fullest version we had?
Oh, to be loved fully,
Even in halves?
Perhaps love was never meant to be measured
Not in halves or wholes, not in certainty or lack.
Because love is nuanced.
A propaganda I’m still willing to fall for.
And in all its forms, in all its contradictions,
It’s far too infinite to be boxed into fractions.
