This is not poetry. This is a series of questions.
How much do you love?
Do you love?
How much do you love when you love?
Do you love until death do us part?
Do you love enough to forgive a tryst, or love enough to have one?
Do you love enough to help another from self-destruction?
Do you love enough to aid a former lover’s sibling from destitution to two-footedness?
Do you love enough to forgive the wild idealism of friends that in your weakness you believed?
Do you love enough to forgive yourself for that generosity?
Do you love enough to question the thought that you need to forgive yourself for that generosity?
Do you love enough to be a martyr?
Do you love enough to cry when what is right stands writhing right in front of you?
Do you love enough to be a human being?
Do you love enough to be yourself?
Do you love yourself?
Do you love enough to get by?
Or do you find yourself, like me, unable to answer any of the above questions
Without breaking down in tears about love lost, love found, love imagined, love obligated... Love, in a hostile world?