The History of an Engagement with φιλια (cont.)

Chapter III. (cont.)

When I fell asleep on your couch, I wondered how I could ever thank you enough. ‘Cause you love, love, love when you know I can’t love*…I sat at your table until midnight with my eyes spilling over. Your calm words and your patient eyes–you love when you know I can’t love. Your midwestern Grace, your red cowboy boots. You opened your ears and you fed me at your table; I was poor and you, my refuge in my poverty. My city would hold together, you spoke over my jaded proclamations. Because you love, love, love when you know I can’t love…Your words and silence, lines of twine, holding me together. When braided, strengthened, not easily broken.** French braids in your brown hair. The same that I would tousle with hands healed, as you feel like falling asleep. When I would be smiling for the first time in two years. After I finally had the strength to turn around. Because you love, love, loved when you knew I couldn’t love. And I wondered how I could ever thank you enough.

*Of Monsters & Men, “Love Love Love.”
**Ecclesiastes 4:12

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