Perhaps true love is not
long-lost soulmates reunited
or two hearts shaped
puzzle-piece- or locket-and-key-like;

perhaps it’s not just one
but any two who
can fit just right
if each only trades in
fears for freedom
to rise as shared light,

and in that lift,
opposite of fall,
that is when hearts
are melted and forged

into the fitting pieces
or key and lock
to open the chest
and remember
what is love,

and what if love’s touch is not
a lightning spark but the hearth
that holds the flame’s warmth
long into the darkest hours,

or the faithful embers
staying aglow
for the return of air
to ignite the soul.