a dragon’s love song

They ask me:

Why don't you write love poems anymore?

And I look at them,

and I wonder

what they're hearing

if they cannot hear

the love within these words.

Just because I don't use

flowers and starlight and chocolate

does not mean this

is not a love poem.

Just because it isn't

soft or sweet or gentle

does not mean that this

is not a love poem.

Love is not, actually, gentle.

Love is not, actually, sweet.

Love is not, actually, soft.

Love is not flowers

or chocolate

or starlight.

Or at least, that's not

all that love is.

If I open my mouth

and all that you hear

is anger and pain and violence

then you're not

listening closely enough.

Because this is a Dragon's Love Song,

and that must be sung

in Fire and in Blood.

It is fire that lights

your way in the night;

it is fire that warms

you in the cold, that keeps you

going when everything

else around you stops.

It is blood that courses through

your veins, that courses through

my veins, that spills

on the streets

on the sheets

in our words and

sometimes we don't even notice

we're walking through it.

This is a Dragon's Love Song

and believe me it is for you —

whether you are the knight at the gates

the Damsel in the Tower

or the dragon on guard.

This is a Dragon’s Love Song,

and that love is Fierce and Strong and Unending,

because this love is Fire

and this love is Blood.

So, when they ask me

Why don't you write love poems anymore?

I respond with a slow, slow smile

and a long, deep exhale through the nose

that carries a small wisp of smoke.