I Have Loved the Right People at the Wrong Times

I have also loved the wrong people
At the wrong times.
And I have loved the right people
Before they were ready 
For my love.

I have loved myself
Incompletely
And thus have never
Really known
How to express love
To others 
Properly.

One problem
Is that English 
Has limited words for love.

“Te quiero” means
I love you
In Spanish
But it’s a different kind
Of love.

It’s the sort of phrase
You use with friends 
And loved ones
And friends who 
Might as well
Be loved ones.

Who are, in fact
Loved ones.

“Estoy enamorado de ti”
Means I’m IN love with you.
But English doesn’t really
Seem to have 
A distinction.

It’s almost like we’re 
Afraid of love
But love can sense our fear.

***

Like a cat,
Love can smell our emotions
Our unpredictability 
Our wavering in our commitment
To it.

Love sneaks up on us 
And tries to jump on us
While we’re in bed.
It sometimes tries to 
Attack us
With its claws
And its teeth.

But that doesn’t mean 
It doesn’t love us.
Love thinks it’s playing
And doesn’t think 
About the possibility
Of spreading rabies.

We love as we are 
Taught to love

Until
We 
Teach
Ourselves
To 
Love.

I have loved
As best as I could
Given the information 
I had at the time.

But reader,
I have sinned.
And I mean sinned 
As in did something 
“Wrong.”

I learned the costs
Of perverted love
When I left my cat
For a week
And came home
To find that
She was starving herself.

She was skin and bone
Even though she had 
Tons of food
From a trusted friend
Who also cuddled
And loved her.

But I left her
In a state of panic
And cats can smell emotions
Just as dogs do.
I had no way of 
Communicating to her
That I was going to my 
Dad’s

And that he was going
To help me get better.

I lost my driver’s license
At the airport.
I had to come back early
In a car
With a friend
Who was traveling
In the same 
Direction 
Anyway.

Now I see 
That was a blessing
Because otherwise
She could have died.

Now she sees
I’m fine
And is chubby
Once again.
Slightly chubby
But with a zest for life
That she did not possess
When I first walked through
The door.

I think she thought
I went away to die.

And perhaps
She blamed herself.

I am the only human
Who has never left her.
I live alone.
I am there for her 
Every single day.
My love for her
Is unconditional.
It knows no bounds.

When she meows,
It’s only because she wants
Something.
Truly wants
Something.
I cater to her needs
And wants
And in return
She only bugs me
When she needs something
Enough to complain 
About it.

Just now
I stopped this poem 
To let my cat outside
But it was raining
And I was terrified
Because I left the back door
Open 
And then I shut it
Last night.

And for the most
Terrifying ten seconds
Of my adult life
I thought she was outside
And had died.

Because my cat comes
When I call.

Especially if I am serious 
And terrified about it
And those ten seconds
Waiting for her 
To arrive
From her nap
Were filled with 
Terrible guilt
And desperation.

Still, I’ve closed the door
On her before
And she knows how to make 
A desperate noise 
That will disturb me 
From a light sleep.

We have a routine.
A safety routine.
And when that routine is broken
All hell breaks loose.

***
My cat had a perverted
Love for me
A love so strong
She would choose to die
Rather than give it up.

A frightening sort of love.
A sick one.

Not sick as in 
Demented
But sick as in 
Perverted 
In the original sense
Which according to the 
Online Etymology Dictionary
Used to mean
Simply
“Turned from the right way.”

In Dante’s Inferno, for example
Sin is a 
Perversion
A turning 
From the right way.

But he is clearly less forgiving 
Of it 
Than I am.

I believe that hell 
Is a place within us.
A grand metaphor 
Which we have forgotten 
Is a metaphor.
I do not believe
That a loving God 
Would punish us
For all eternity.

Even if we would
Choose that fate
for ourselves.

The task then
Is to determine how to love.
But we don’t understand love.

The best I ever managed
Was to try and stick love
In a literal spreadsheet.

In Greek there are 
Multiple words for love.
Eros is something I’m sure 
You can guess.

(It means erotic love
If you cannot).

Philia is a love of the mind
Platonic love
And was valued
Far, far more than 
Eros
By the Greeks.

Ludus is a playful love
The kind you
Have
When you are having 
Fun.
When you play the 
Games of words
And laughter
Everybody wins.

Pragma is more
Of a committed love
A love bound by marriage
A secure and binding love
It is the sort of love
That can only be achieved 
By growing old together.

Agape is a love
Of the soul
A love for humanity 
Itself.

The Greeks have many, many words
For love
And we have only one.

And we wonder why
We cannot express love
Why love is perverted.

It is because
We literally
Cannot
Talk
About it.